


Come True

by Xenobotanist



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cardassian Anatomy, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Garak and Miles get into a fistfight, Happy Ending, Lots of Sex but also ANGST, M/M, Mild Angst, Miles and Julian have a past, Oral Sex, POV Elim Garak, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, another one got out of my control, there’s technically unicorns but they’re not the main point of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian and Garak accompany Keiko and Miles on a trip to Bajor. Garak is in for some VERY pleasant surprises. And a few revelations.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 86
Kudos: 125





	1. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Garak gets off on the back of a unicorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a smutty SHORT one-shot and became a whole friggin story. Ah, the things OCD can do for (to) you.

Garak gripped Julian’s waist as loosely as he dared, trying his best to let go whenever possible. Not that it mattered. His crotch rubbed and bumped against the Human’s over and over again as the _bokka_ beneath them trotted easily along the path. The concave slope of the beast’s back kept them unavoidably pressed together, unable to separate to the slightest degree. And the rhythmic gait did nothing to alleviate the heat that had been building up between them for some time now.

Nor did the way Julian seemed to keep leaning back against him, turning his head to respond to each comment and query, practically grinding into Garak’s entire frontside.

The _bokka_ took a hard step down from a ledge, jostling her riders, and his fingers dug into the doctor’s hips to keep him from falling off. Julian jolted in place, his head lifting in surprise while his back arched involuntarily. “Are you okay back there?” he asked unevenly.

“Yes, Doctor, quite. I was just caught by surprise is all.”

“I thought it was impossible to surprise an agent of the Obsidian Order,” Julian jibed at him.

“I’m sure even the most capable operative can occasionally be thrown off stride,” Garak replied easily. “Although I’ll be sure to enquire should I ever meet one.”

The Human made a rude noise in his throat, and everything settled back to normal between them.

For all of 5 minutes.

The trail began to wind uphill, causing the pair to readjust their grips and angles, Julian on the reigns and stirrups, Garak on Julian, who was now practically bouncing in his lap.

He was going to die of sexual frustration, and he had only himself to blame.

Although he’d be willing to take the Chief and Professor down with him for suggesting this in the first place.

He watched Miles and Keiko meander in front of them, the botanist leaning back easily into her husband’s arms as he flicked the reigns and whispered something into her ear. The occasional growl and giggle from their flirting wafted in their direction, and Garak was beginning to wonder why they’d even invited anyone else along if they were going to pretend like they were on a second honeymoon.

Julian seemed to be thinking along the same wavelength as him, although by nature not as uncharitably. “They sure seem to be having fun up there,” he said warmly. “This is really good for them. Finally some time away from the station and without Molly.”

Garak couldn’t care less about that at the moment, but he tried to respond courteously. “Yes, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen them so affectionate before.”

Julian shifted his seat, a whole-body shimmy that made Garak want to press into his back. “Well, you have to admit it’s all pretty romantic. A horseback ride through the Bajoran outback, collecting botanical specimens, camping under the stars… No cold metal corridors, recycled air, or dimly lit quarters. It’s the perfect setting for a couple who needs some time alone.”

Only they _weren’t_ alone, because he and Julian were there. “Are you sure they needed you along, Doctor? They seem to be handling everything capably.”

“No, Keiko insisted. We’re going to be hitting some rougher terrain tonight or tomorrow, and it’s always helpful to have a qualified emergency responder available. Besides, _I’m_ enjoying the break, too. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from all the dreary architecture and drudgery of everyday work.”

“Pardon me,” Garak said resentfully. “But I’ll have you know that Terok Nor’s architecture is classical and efficient, blending art seamlessly with form and function. Just because you can’t appreciate it from your own limited perspective doesn’t make it _dreary.”_

“You’re right, Garak. I’m sorry,” Julian replied. “But you have to admit it is still a bit _gray_. Everywhere. Almost Romulan, you might say.”

The Cardassian bristled. “Aren’t _all_ ships and starbases? Do you have any idea the undertaking it would require to paint the sheer quantity and expanses of metal that make them up?”

“Not a clue, actually,” the Human responded cheerfully.

“A _lot_ , dear doctor.”

Julian rotated to smile at him over his shoulder, their faces only centimeters apart. “You don’t know either, do you?”

Garak rolled his eyes. “Keep your eyes on the trail, if you please. I don’t want to spend the next week _walking_ to and from the Toponoah Highlands if you manage to injure our _bokka_.”

Julian turned back around and patted the pale bluish-green steed fondly on the neck. “I still can’t believe Bajor has unicorns. There were fairytales about these on Earth for _centuries.”_

Garak recalled having read about them once or twice in novels lent to him by his companion. In his opinion, they didn’t seem to be terribly interesting, or even creative. Just a standard Terran horse, but with a bony spike protruding from its head. “I still find Cardassian riding hounds much more graceful and striking. They have a very commanding presence and must be handled with the utmost respect.”

“And how do the races fit into that?” Julian asked primly.

“They’ve been falling out of favor in recent years,” Garak asserted defensively. He’d never been particularly fond of them anyway. It was Tain who’d bred and raced the hounds, just more creatures for him to mold and control. Garak had always preferred brushing their coats and letting them nuzzle his palm to training and reprimanding them.

The pair remained quiet for a while after that, each presumably lost in their own thoughts. The path continued to rise, and Garak had to hold tighter and tighter to the body in front of him. If it got any worse, he was going to have to wrap his arms around Julian, and wouldn’t that be just pure, absolute torture. As it was, his chin kept inadvertently knocking into the Human’s shoulder blade so often that he’d given up on apologizing. 

Thank the guls he had donned underclothes for the expedition, as it at least dulled the friction between the two of them a _little._

The trees thinned and opened up, revealing that they’d reached the top of a ridge. In front of them stretched a plain that was dotted with wildflowers, and in the far distance, several rusty red plateaus. The bright sun glared down on them out of a clear indigo sky, and Garak quickly dug a straw hat from his bag to settle gingerly on his head.

Julian twitched and snickered in front of him. “That tickles! It feels like you’re playing with my hair.”

Indeed, the edge of the hat kept getting caught in the doctor’s locks. It was a good thing he wasn’t wearing one as well. Garak inched back as much as he could to put some distance between them.

Keiko’s voice called to them from ahead. “Do you see the formation on the left? There’s a canyon through it with a campground. We’re hoping to reach it by tonight.”

“Sounds good!” Julian hollered back, then lowered his voice for Garak. “Looks like we still have another two or three hours of riding left, and…” he craned his head to measure the sun, “probably four hours of daylight left, so we’ll have plenty of time to set up the site.” He bounced giddily. “Isn’t this great? We need to do this more often.”

“We, doctor?”

The Human shrugged. “Well, anyone really. It’s good to get out in the sun and fresh air.” He turned around again. “But it is nice to get to hang out with Miles. And you, too. We don’t get to spend much time together outside of the replimat, do we? Just a racquetball match or drink at Quark’s every once in a while. I’m glad you could come along, Garak.”

The sincerity was evident in his voice, and the Cardassian couldn’t help responding convivially. “I am too, Doctor. Sometimes I forget what it’s like to not be sitting behind a console sewing one suit or gown after another.”

Julian patted his leg and gave it a short squeeze. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve done much more than _that_ behind a console.”

Obviously he was alluding to the tailor’s late-night contacts and covert operations, but Garak’s mind insisted on wandering into much cruder but no less incriminating activities. “Of course,” he agreed as blandly as possible. “I also balance my budget and inventory.”

The snort in front of him was far from befitting a chief medical officer, but it was amusing nonetheless.

On flat ground now, the _bokkas_ picked up their pace to a canter, and Garak was forced to grab Julian’s waist again. Their focus switched from banter to staying balanced on their mount, so they rode in silence for the next hour or so and just enjoyed the scenery until the pace slowed again.

The late heat of the day settled around them in the still air. It must have rained recently, because a humid fug rose out of the soil to surround them, and soon everyone was sweating profusely. 

This was even more distracting for Garak, because his enhanced sense of smell allowed him now to pick up every scent and chemical that wafted back from the man in front of him. Something sweet, something spicy, something oily from his hair, and no fewer than three different types of musk.

It was, for want of a better word, arousing.

Garak tried to keep his head turned to the side, to take deep draughts of hay-tinged air, but he kept getting drawn back to the front, leaning forward surreptitiously to draw in the aroma seeping from Julian’s neck, from behind his ears, wafting up from where their bodies still insisted on touching now and then.

The troop stopped for a water and restroom break, and Garak stayed as far as he dared from everyone else the entire time. He had the sneaking suspicion that Keiko was watching him, but he never quite seemed to catch her in the act. Julian and Miles laughed over something and slapped each other on the backs, and the next thing he knew the engineer was chasing the doctor through the grass and pouring water down his shirt. Julian shrieked and dodged, but the damage was already done. He was still chortling as they climbed back on the _bokka._

“Miles doesn’t know it, but he really did me a favor,” he informed Garak. “I feel _so much_ better now. Cooler.” He proffered a water packet. “Want to pour some water on yourself?”

Garak declined it. “No thank you. This temperature is natural for my own people. I find it positively pleasant.”

“Hmm. I suppose so. But what about the humidity? Isn’t Cardassia mostly desert?”

They spent the next hour comparing Cardassian and Terran biomes, and Garak was sufficiently distracted for the time being. But the heat only increased as the sun lowered towards the horizon, and Julian’s clothes dried out quickly. To the tailor’s surprise, he grabbed his shirt below Garak’s hands and gave a tug. “Excuse me,” he said, and lifted the garment straight off his body to drape over his ride’s neck. Stretching his arms to each side and rolling his neck, he sighed heartily. “That’s _much_ better.”

Garak reluctantly returned his hands to their places, only to realize there was nothing to hold onto, only burnished brown skin or blue trousers. Well, there did appear to be belt loops, so he settled on hooking his fingers in those. If his thumbs occasionally brushed upward and over the smooth flesh above that, well, it could be explained away. Somehow. 

“Are you sure you’ve got a strong enough hold, Garak? That doesn’t seem very tight.”

“It’s good enough, Doctor. We’re not moving that quickly.” 

Julian hummed back noncommittally. “So, about that text you lent me, _Salient Constraints on Modern Democracies across the Quadrant--”_

Miles and his wife rounded about until they were riding alongside. “Keiko says there’s a spring up ahead about four clicks away, and it’s just a little bit off from our destination. It might be a nice place to cool off. What do you think?”

Garak and Julian regarded each other, and neither spoke, but they reached a consensus nonetheless. “Sure, why not? Is the water potable?”

Keiko nodded. “And it’s full of minerals, too.” She smiled sunnily at Garak. “Especially calcium and phosphorus. That’s one of the reasons this preserve was created in the first place. The Cardassians claimed the waters in this region gave their scales a full, healthy glow.”

That did sound appealing. Garak wondered if he could find something to hold a sample in for him to scan into the replicator patterns. “That sounds like a worthwhile diversion,” he assented. 

Miles grinned. “Great! What do you say we make a race of it?”

Garak frowned. “I’m not sure that’s fair, Mr. O’Brien. I’m built rather solidly, and probably weigh down our poor beast.”

The Irishmen scoffed. “What? You can’t weigh much more than me.” He patted his belly. “I’ve been eatin’ a lot more heartily since Keiko got back.” He looked his friend up and down. “And this twig here can’t weigh much more than her.” 

Keiko tilted her head inquisitively. “Julian, where’d your shirt go?”

Both he and Garak looked down, but it was most definitely not with them anymore. “Ah… I guess it must have fallen off somewhere back there.”

“You’d lose yer _head_ if it weren’t attached,” Miles jeered.

Irrationally offended for Julian, Garak proclaimed, “And _you’re_ about to lose the race,” and signaled their _bokka_ to take off.

The Human in front of him yelped in surprise and then leaned forward and laughed. “That was hilarious! Did you see his face?”

He flicked the reigns and bent over further, and the steed responded, speeding up even more. Garak was forced to cling tight or risk falling off, and he finally gave in, wrapping his arms around the doctor’s torso. The chest under him rumbled in what might have been a hum of appreciation, or maybe just excitement at the competition.

Garak snatched a look back at their pursuers, and was surprised to see them not nearly as far back as he’d hoped. They were gaining steadily, probably because both Humans had experience with horseback riding. Keiko had taken the lead from her husband, seeing as she was sitting in the front, and she pushed on enthusiastically, Miles clinging behind her with a flushed face. She raised her eyebrows at Garak and winked.

He put his mouth up to Julian’s ear. “They’re gaining on us, Doctor! Do you know how to go any faster?”

“Yes, by throwing you off!”

Garak smacked his leg in rebuke, then collapsed over Julian as he almost slipped off by accident.

The O’Briens steadily overtook them, Keiko beaming triumphantly and Miles waggling his fingers by his ears while sticking out his tongue. 

Julian grumbled in frustration. 

In this new position, Garak became uncomfortably aware of not only how hot the Human had become but his chuva being ground mercilessly into the waistband of Julian’s jeans. Tingles and jolts radiated from their point of contact, and he found himself closing his eyes at the onslaught of sensation. 

“Garak, you’re too stiff!” Julian yelled over the hoofbeats. “You’ve got to loosen up!”

Oh no. No. He couldn’t do that. Because if he did, he might just evert. The steady rhythm and rubbing were impossible for his body to ignore. It might be time to come up with an excuse to pull out of the race. He couldn’t continue like this.

Their challengers were two whole lengths ahead of them now. It was a lost cause, really. He should put a stop to it.

Only… it felt _really,_ really good. Garak was, for all intents and purposes, riding the lovely Dr. Bashir. Grinding into him, rocking forward and back with each jostle. Adrenaline spiked through him, half at the incessant stimulation and half at the fear of what would happen if the salvo continued. And his dear friend really did seem to be enjoying himself. He was shouting something into the breeze and appeared to be grinning maniacally whenever Garak caught a glimpse of his face.

The _bokka_ seemed to pick up on the fever and spurred forward, closing the gap. Julian peered back at Garak, mouth open. “Isn’t this fan- _tas-_ tic?” The Cardassian behind him didn’t get a chance to answer and wasn’t sure what he would say even if he did. “Do you feel how I’m moving with the tempo of the gallop? Try to move with me Garak, and maybe we can catch up.”

No. This had to stop. It was-- His body thrust forward of its own volition, and immediately fell into the beat. The movement was natural, one as old as time itself, and he could feel the change not only in himself but the pace of their team. Everything slid into place, and the awkward bumble they’d been experiencing thus far smoothed out into a glide over the plain.

Julian cheered in delight. “That’s it, Garak, you’ve got it! Just like that!”

Overwhelmed, the tailor buried his face in the slick, coiled back. He panted roughly, his own breath puffing back at him, hot moist air over his lips and chin. Oh guls, he couldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be. He shuddered and squeezed tighter, a whimper escaping before he could stop it.

Julian stiffened under him, shoulders tightening and head jerking up. He sucked his breath and held it, saying nothing, and stared straight forward. 

“Doctor, we need to- we have to-” Garak gasped. One of his hands slithered downward of its own account, and he snatched at another belt loop to keep from straying any lower. “Empty reaches,” he cursed under his breath.

Julian leaned back, just so slightly, but it was enough for the _bokka_ to slow the tiniest bit. The gap opened back up between them and the O’Briens, and continued to spread.

Was it Garak’s imagination, or had something changed? It felt like Julian’s hips were moving differently, like his back had changed shape in some undefinable way. One hand released the reign, and it wandered onto his partner’s lower thigh. He rubbed up and down, just once, then tightened his fingers.

The firm grip sent a wave of heat rolling through Garak and he lifted his head, his lips grazing lightly, almost coincidentally, over the ridges of Julian’s spine. He felt more than heard a groan echo through the Human’s chest, and watched in awe as Julian dipped his head and shuddered. 

Was he just as affected?

With the other party far ahead now, Garak’s eyes focused solely on the toffee-brown skin below him, the taut muscles that stretched and compressed with the pounding beat between their legs. It was electrifying; it was obscene. He couldn’t believe that--

Julian raised his hips.

Garak thrust against them wantonly. He pressed his cheek to his back, hugging so tightly that he feared could cut off Julian’s air. He pulled at the loop still wound around his fingers, wanting to reach lower, to cup what he hoped was there, and Julian spasmed in response. Garak yanked harder, tugging the crotch of the material upward, and this time the doctor shuddered and pushed back, forcing his rear into Garak’s groin.

It was too much. The drumming of the hoofbeats, the lithe object of his desires undulating under him, the nails digging into the skin above his knee. He bowed his head until his chufa was flush against sweating skin, _Julian’s_ skin, and stars flashed behind his eyes. A sizzle that started in his toes rose through his legs and into his core, and he tensed up, frozen in place, as his entire body contracted in on itself. Nose crushed into the Human’s vertebrae, he cried out the name he’d been longing to utter for years. “Julian! Oh… Julian…” 

All of his awareness collapsed into a single point of light, which erupted blindingly inside his ajan. He felt the release spurt internally, trapped within as he hadn’t allowed himself to evert. He clenched as tight as he could, trying to keep it from seeping out. Another tremor shook him, and he almost came again. Oh sands, he wanted to feel something else there. Something thicker, and hotter, and decidedly more _solid._

Julian slowed the _bokka_ and turned it around to face away from the spring that they’d grown nearer to. He spoke lowly, as if someone might overhear. “Garak. Um. Garak, did you--” He swiveled his head, trying to get a good look.

The tailor refused to meet his eyes. He sat back and released his hold. Shame and embarrassment burned through him. “Excuse me,” he rasped out, and climbed down.

“Garak- Garak, wait.” Julian chased after him and grabbed his arm. “Hey. That was… unexpected. But in a good way. Like, in a way that I’ve wanted for a long time now. Like… I want to continue this tonight in our tent. Really.”

Garak stared back at him in consternation. “Doctor-”

“Oh no. After that, keep calling me Julian. I like it. A _lot_. Please, say my name more often.” His wide open hazel eyes burned into Garak, and he rubbed his thumb back and forth in invitation.

It seemed like this ought to be a bad joke, or a dream, but no, the Human really was batting his lashes enchantingly and licking his lips. 

Garak glanced into the distance, where Keiko and Miles had dismounted. The chief engineer was looking with concern in their direction, but his wife steered him away.

“Julian.” Attentive eyes blinked owlishly back at him. “I need a few minutes to myself.”

The hand on his arm fell away. “Alright. I’m gonna go over to the spring. Feel free to join us when you’re ready.”

He turned away reluctantly, then led the _bokka_ toward the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but this time around I felt the need to post this:  
> Chapter 1: Teen  
> Chapter 2: Mature  
> Chapter 3: Explicit  
> Chapter 4: Fluff  
> Chapter 5: Explicit  
> Chapter 6-7: Angsty Interlude  
> Chapter 8: Teen  
> Chapter 9: Explicit


	2. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which they can't speak

Garak retained his distance, choosing instead to perch on a large rock and watch the festivities from afar. He shook his head at the easy camaraderie as Miles and Julian got into a splash fight, then teamed up to toss Keiko into a pool. On the way down, she grabbed Julian’s wrist and dragged him in with her, and everybody ended up soaked.

They were too far away for Garak to hear anything more than the occasional shriek, and he wondered with detachment what excuse Julian had made about his absence. 

He kept his mind carefully blank, steadfastly refusing to think about or even remember what had just happened, other than to clean up in privacy behind a boulder. He was simply going to let things play out as they may, with no planning on his part. It wouldn’t do to get his hopes up... but he didn’t exactly want to _discourage_ anything, either. 

So he would wait. 

And if nothing happened, so be it.

It wasn’t until the light was beginning to die that the impromptu party wound down and everyone started packing up. Garak finally walked over to join them as Miles and Keiko climbed back up onto their mount. The botanist observed him openly now, worry evident in her eyes. She knew something was wrong, even if not what. When Julian saw him and began to stammer and scuff his foot, her gaze turned from anxiety to speculation. He could see the wheels turning.

Had she orchestrated this? The moment the thought crossed his mind, she whirled away to say something playful to Miles and pat his back.

Julian stood by the second _bokka,_ waiting patiently. Most of the water covering him had evaporated by now, but his hair was still wet. With his stark collarbones and slicked scalp, he looked almost Cardassian. Except for the pink coloring over his cheeks. And the way his eyes turned up in the corners, a smile without a smile. “Would you like a turn in front?” he asked quietly. “You can take the lead, if you like.” When Garak didn’t respond right away, he nodded to the others. “You go on ahead. We’ll follow in a minute.” Ducking timidly, he dropped his voice. “Did you want to talk first?”

Gesturing to the horizon, Garak shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the sun is setting and we have a canyon to traverse before reaching our campsite. Let’s be on our way, and save this little _chat_ for later.” It came out less kindly than intended, but he didn’t take it back.

“Fine,” Julian replied shortly. “Go ahead, since you’re in such a hurry.” He crossed his arms and waited for Garak to get on first. Unable to turn down a challenge, the Cardassian hopped up. Julian clambered on behind him and didn’t hesitate to clasp him about the waist. “Do you know what to do?” 

Garak merely nodded and flicked his wrists, and the _bokka_ set off.

Despite the sharp edge to his words, Julian’s embrace was quite soft and gentle. He curled around Garak’s back and rested his head against the nape as they trotted. His curly hair tickled over a few scales. It was… pleasant.

It also left no room for doubt as to the doctor’s feelings.

The steep walls of the plateau rose around them as they proceeded, the orangey-red stone turning bronze in the shadows. One turn to the left, and they were abruptly plunged into darkness. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust, but their ride seemed to know what she was doing and advanced without reservation. Garak let her follow her instincts and lowered his arms. He let go with one hand to brush over Julian’s fingers. “Doctor-”

“It’s still Julian.”

“Must you always insist on interrupting me?”

There was an amused pause. “Only when it matters.”

Hmm. “And does it matter?”

Silence, except for the scuff of hoof over gravel. “Yes. Yes it does.”

“Very well. Julian.” A pleased hum was returned. “This is not wise.”

“Riding in the dark? I can turn on a light.”

Frustrated, Garak contemplated elbowing the ribs behind him. “Don’t be obtuse. You know to what I’m referring.”

The body behind him withdrew and straightened petulantly. “No, I don’t think I do. I’m not going to respond about anything that you won’t even name. I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

He’d forgotten how stubborn and assertive the Human could be. “This afternoon,” he began. “Before the spring, when you-- when I…”

“Say it, Garak.”

He huffed. It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’d never had this much trouble expressing himself to others before. And yet, after so many years of the two of them pretending there was nothing going on between them, to finally voice it, out loud… well, that was moving out of familiar territory and into somewhere infinitely more dangerous. 

And he realized something.

“Julian, I… I’m not ready to talk about this.” He needed time to find the words. To determine just what he wanted, what he needed, and what was actually possible. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

A hand brushed over his tunic. “No, it’s fine. I understand. Is it alright if I still hold you, though? I’m getting a bit chilly without my shirt.”

Neither of them mentioned that he could just pull a new one out of his bag. “Yes, you may.”

Julian returned to his previous position, snuggling in. “Your clothes are so warm. They really do hold in the heat, don’t they?”

As it was a rhetorical question, they left it unanswered. The shadows grew thicker about them, and once the _bokka_ began to stumble, Julian pulled a torch from his pocket and affixed it to the head harness. The jagged walls lit up before them, making the blanket of darkness outside of their bubble even blacker. Julian hugged Garak tighter and squirmed as close as possible. He shivered a little, so the tailor rested one arm over his. 

As they trundled forward, huddled together in companionship, a light frisson began to build back up. It started with Garak absently kneading over the back of Julian’s hand, which was smooth as silk and hard to resist. In return, the Human nuzzled into his back and pulled his other hand out to cover Garak’s, sandwiching it between. They held the pose for several minutes, in which their bodies slowly began to mold into one another. 

Something warm and supple skimmed over a neck scale, and it may have been meant to be chaste, or reassuring, or simply affectionate, but Garak’s whole body tensed back up at the touch. Julian’s lips descended again, mouthing feather-light down the ridge. The unintended tease was maddening, and he squeezed both hands in frustration. His fingers curled into Julian’s, which spread to allow access between. Feeling a tug on the reign, the _bokka_ slowed its gait. 

Julian mouthed along his shoulder now, with longer and deeper presses. Each kiss spiraled through Garak’s chest and shot south between his legs. On the station, this never could have been permitted. Not physical contact, not affection, certainly not out in the open. But here in the dark of a canyon on Bajor, isolated and hidden, it was nearly impossible to resist.

Unfortunately, they weren’t as alone as they would have liked to pretend. Voices and sounds echoed from ahead: the punctuated remarks of a discussion, clicks and thuds, a curse.

By the time they reached the O’Briens, Garak had composed himself. He hoped Julian had too.

Miles and Keiko’s lantern lit up a small alcove just off the path, barely large enough to fit both tents, assuming they were small and wedged side-to-side. 

Keiko had her hands on her hips and was pouting. “The guide didn’t say anything about how small this site was, and I made sure to read _everything._ ” Her hair was unbound and mussed, and Garak couldn’t help noticing that her clothing seemed somewhat askew. It looked like the married couple might have been enjoying themselves just as much as he and his companion.

“I guess we’ll just have to make do,” Miles said gruffly in more than mild disappointment.

“I’ve seen worse,” Julian offered. “I suppose we could just forgo the tents and all sleep out in the open.” Three pairs of exasperated eyes bore into him, and he quailed back, hands up in surrender. “Or not.”

The atmosphere was subdued as the site was arranged and provisions pulled out. Garak watched in amazement as the two officers each set a box on the stone, pressed a button, and stepped back. Spider legs shot outward from each contraption, spreading an opaque khaki-colored material in all directions, and up shot two identical tents. There was no space between the shelters, or between them and the walls. It was a tight fit.

Sleeping rolls and small bags were deposited inside, and everything else was left on the trail with the _bokkas_. The mounts sidled up to each other from opposite directions, draped their heads across each other’s backs, and promptly fell asleep. Keiko snapped a picture.

After a brief snack, everyone retired to their tents, and hushed whispering soon emitted from both residences.

“ _Keiko,_ what about--”

“Garak, do you think--”

“C’mon, Miles…”

“...not really that tired…”

Silence fell. 

Julian grimaced and shrugged. “G’night everyone!” he called out in the direction of the other tent.

“G’night, Julian,” Miles echoed back, followed by a “Hmmph!” and scuffling. There was a chuckle from his wife.

The doctor and tailor stared at each other in discomfort. It was going to be mightily awkward if what they thought was going to happen soon really did, not six feet away. “I brought my padd and a few rods,” Garak mentioned. “Shall we read before turning in?”

Julian procured his own device and frowned at it. “Sure, I just started a new novel.” His eyes flitted in the direction of his friends. “I wish this thing played music,” he mumbled under his breath. Garak silently agreed. They both crawled into their sleeping bags and settled on their chests, padds on on the ground in front of them.

The rustling, grunts, and squeaks emitting from nearby didn’t let up. Distracted, Garak could barely register a single word on the screen in front of him. As a seasoned agent he really ought to be able to tune things out better, but he was sorely out of practice, and there _were_ limits to his abilities.

Without warning, Julian jumped up and let himself out of the tent. He reappeared a minute later, cradling 4 small lumps in his hand. He offered two to Garak.

Ear plugs.

They shared a quick smile.

The new addition didn’t block out _everything,_ but it was a marked improvement. Garak was able to read a few lines before losing his concentration again. With the sheer walls encircling their camp and the tent over them, he had been fighting off the sense of everything being too close, and now with something stuffed in his ears he felt like he was beginning to drown underwater. He closed his eyes and tried some deep breathing.

When he looked again, there was a message on his padd. <Some trip, huh?>

He rolled his eyes. <You have a rare gift for understatement, my dear.>

He only made it through one paragraph before receiving a tap on the shoulder. Julian pointed to their mini lantern and pantomimed turning it off. Garak nodded, and the space was plunged into inky darkness except for their two padds. A yelp or squeak sounded from off to the side, but through the plugs he couldn’t tell if it came from Miles or Keiko. He decided he didn’t want to dwell too closely on the idea.

Another message popped up. <Sounds like they’re having fun.>

<I’m trying very hard to mind my own business.>

A moment caught Garak’s eye. He watched in amusement as Julian flipped onto his side, then his back. He couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. <My legs are sore from riding all day. How are you?>

<Just fine, thank you.> Garak lied. His whole body was sore.

The doctor rolled back over and propped himself up on one elbow, not even pretending to read. <This is kind of fun, not being able to talk.>

How does one respond to that? <I suppose it does present a challenge.>

<So you find challenges fun?>

Garak looked up to see mischievous eyes gleaming at him. He raised a brow and returned to the messages. <Unequivocally.> He resolutely focused on his story and refused to look back. But out of the corner of his eye he could see Julian typing furiously on his padd, erasing, and typing again. This continued for several minutes before he shoved it to the side and buried his face in his pillow.

Slightly perplexed, but mostly amused, Garak resumed his reading. The story was only vaguely interesting, but it was a relief to clear his mind with something plain and simple at the end of such a long day. After a chapter, he grew more absorbed in the story and let his troubles drift away.

Another message eventually popped up. <The temperature’s going to drop tonight. How are you going to stay warm?>

Garak groaned before he could stop himself, and hoped Julian couldn’t hear it through his ear plugs. That wasn’t even subtle. Lips quirking, he sketched out a reply. <I suppose I’ll just go into torpor. But as long as you lie me out in the sun in the morning, I should be able to function properly tomorrow.>

<Can I lie you out **tonight**?>

Garak swung his head over to his tent mate, whose smoky eyes questioned him with a blatant invitation.

Fingers stuttering, he replied. <I thought you would want to talk first.>

<That’s not so easy right now, is it? Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to talk when we get back to the station.>

It was tempting. So tempting.

His mind played back over the afternoon’s ride, and the words spoken after.

If Julian was willing, what was the point in denying himself? <What do you propose?>

A copper hand darted over and drew his padd away, tucking it into a corner of the tent. Julian scooted his bag until they were as close to touching as they could be through the multiple thick layers. Garak turned to meet him so that they were matched length to length, then found himself pushed over. Still wrapped up, the Human climbed on top of him and ground down. Garak’s legs spread open, letting him wiggle between them.

They gazed at each other avidly, then came together at the same time for their first real kiss. Hungry lips parted as they drank each other in, not even attempting to start off slow. Tongues clashed and teeth collided, and they grabbed each other’s faces in an attempt to wrest control and hold the other in place. All the while their bodies writhed and thrust against each other, hips and legs worming about in a plea for more friction and pressure.

“Julian. Julian, please,” Garak pleaded, not even sure what he was begging for. 

Both sleeping bags were shoved down and kicked to the periphery, and Julian’s body pressed into him as if there was a mountain on top of them. Garak wrapped his legs around Julian’s and grabbed his rear, pulling the hard Human groin against his own as they continued to kiss hungrily and pant. He couldn’t hear his partner’s breathing, but every few seconds his chest would hum, and Garak imagined it might be groans or whimpers. 

“I want you. I want you so much, my dear,” he whispered into the shadows, aware the other man couldn’t hear him.

Garak rolled them over until he was on top and started to thrust harder, everting in the process.

He could tell the moment Julian noticed, because his eyes opened wide and he grabbed Garak’s arms roughly and squeezed so hard it hurt.

They both tore their trousers and undergarments down to their thighs and nudged their erections together, rutting shamelessly. Garak knew, vaguely, that it would only take a minor adjustment, a guiding hand and a change of angle for one of them to penetrate the other, but it was almost impossible to stop now, and such things could be pursued later. So he gripped Julian’s shoulder with one hand and his hair with the other, tugging amorously as they kissed over and over again.

The Human worked his legs to the outside of the tangle and wrapped them around Garak’s thighs, hooking their ankles together. On top but trapped in place, the Cardassian growled and pulled away to bite at the delicate neck under him. Their humping grew sloppy and frenzied, the head of Julian’s cock repeatedly sliding over or prodding into Garak’s chuva, and he sucked at the skin in his mouth hard enough to leave a bruise.

Julian grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back up into one more searing kiss, and he knew this was it. The heat and trembles rose between them, rhythm completely absent. Garak’s ears rang as he plunged his arms under Julian’s back and crushed him to his chest, pressing their cheeks together as a narrow string of ecstasy burst out of him, followed by ropes of his seed. A hotter, thinner liquid spurted out soon after, and he heard his companion cry out even through the plugs in his ears. 

They clung tightly to each other for a minute more, each taking a turn to make one more grind, one more rub, to eek one final modicum of pleasure from their joining. At last they pulled away and silently regarded each other. Garak had worried that should they ever follow through on their flirtations it would be awkward and cumbersome afterwards, but all he saw gazing up at him was smug satisfaction. And the fading whisper of lust, which promised to make a return in the near future.

Well. 

Maybe this trip hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I try to hold off about 3 days before posting each new chapter, but this one seems pretty finished and only needs a little polishing, so I might just update daily.


	3. Early Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which they go all the way

Garak woke to several short, low vibrations. The naked body curled around his popped up and fumbled around to grab a padd and poke at it until it stopped humming. 

Julian smiled down at him and pulled out an ear plug. He waited until Garak did the same and whispered to him. “It’s 0200 hours. I set an alarm.”

“Yes? What for?”

“Well…” he drew the word out. “Now that Miles and Keiko are asleep, we could have that talk. Or we could do other things.”

Garak was all in favor of other things. “Is that so.”

“Mm-hm.” They both took out their other ear plugs and set them aside to regard each other as openly as was possible in the dark tent. Garak was certain he could see Julian much better than vice versa, and he trailed one finger down his spine just to watch the reaction. The Human arched his back and hissed. “I see.”

“I’m not sure you do, but that’s alright.”

Between the thermal sleeping bag beneath them and the one zipped to join it on top, their bodies were more than warm enough, and a specific zone on Julian seemed to be heating up like a furnace even as they spoke. It was a shame he hadn’t had a chance to fully see that region yet, but if he played his cards right, there would be more than enough opportunities in the near future. Actually, Garak was beginning to think that at this point it was possible even if played them wrong.

Julian traced a few scales on his chest. “Do you… want to try something new? Um, beyond what we did earlier?”

They really had done very little so far, even if it had yielded excellent results. Which boded well for more exploration, in Garak’s opinion. “If you’re open to the idea, then I am as well.”

The body next to his wiggled in excitement. “Well, obviously, there’s handjobs. And, ah... do Cardassians do oral?”

“Are you referring to kissing? Because I believe that I’ve already adequately answered that question.”

“Um no. I mean…” his hand gestured futilely in the air.

“Aren’t you a chief medical officer? Shouldn’t this be natural for you to discuss?”

Julian huffed. “I’m a doctor, not a sex therapist. I ask about immunizations, protection, and birth control, not positions.” He thought for a second. “Although it does occasionally cover physiological compatibility between different Humanoid races, so I suppose that _does_ make me something of a sex therapist, doesn’t it?” He laughed quietly.

“And we _are_ different races, my dear.”

“Don’t I know it. Okay. So... oral is using your mouth on the genitals,” he said in a rush.

“Ah, I see. Cardassians have been known to participate in that activity, although it isn’t widely discussed.” In most circles, anyway.

“And what about you in particular?”

“I believe that discussing our sexual histories might fall under the purview of the chat we’re putting off. But in the interest of furthering the night’s agenda, I would not be averse to such a thing.” He wondered to himself. If it headed in that direction, who would be in which position? What would he prefer? Was it possible to do both at once?

“Glad to know. Me too.” Julian took a deep breath and swallowed audibly. “And then there’s full-on intercourse. Penetration.”

Garak chose to be candid. “I would not have had any objections had we come to that earlier, and I still do not.”

The Human raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Okay. So, what do you want to do?”

Garak was of the mind to let circumstances evolve organically, as their relationship had in the first few years. To see where things led when left to their own devices. But this wasn’t Deep Space Nine, and they didn’t have unlimited time remaining, just this excursion. He mused. “Any of those sound as if they could be mutually enjoyable. What are your thoughts?”

The Human weaved his head side to side in indecision. “This is kind of embarrassing, but I always thought you’d be the one to, uh, initiate anything... and take the lead.”

“ _Always_ , my dear?” That sounded promising.

“I might have fantasized about us once or twice.”

“Really.”

“Per week.”

Garak was taken aback. He could see Julian being fascinated by the lure of danger early on in their acquaintance, or intrigued by his mystique as events unraveled over time. Perhaps romanticizing his time as a spy or hoping to coerce secrets out of him in the throes of passion. But such avid, sustained interest? Surely not. “That’s quite flattering,” he admitted. 

“Did you ever…?”

“Think about you?”

“Yes.”

He supposed there was no danger in being truthful on this matter. Partially. “I have indulged in the odd daydream here or there.” Far more often when he was under the constant influence of the implant, to be sure. “But I do believe we’re getting off topic again.”

Julian raised up on his elbow, his eyes uncharacteristically serious. “Garak, I’ll be honest. I fully expect to get back to the station and have you pretend all this never happened, and for us to never talk about it again, despite what you say. I don’t like it, but I’ll take what I can get. So, whatever you want, I’ll do. Anything.”

Something twisted deep and sharp inside Garak’s chest, both at the conviction and vulnerability in the doctor’s voice and the assurance of “anything.” Such a statement was deeply affecting. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let it get this far, a point at which emotion threatened to overshadow physical gratification. But that was rain sunk into the soil, as Tolan would say. No bringing it back now. 

“Julian. I’ll return your honesty with my own. I’ve lived my life one day at a time since my exile began. The furthest I’ve ever dared to plan ahead is our next lunch.” Excepting his inventory and commissions, which was just good business. “The most I can give you is today, and tomorrow, and the rest of this trip. When we return, we _will_ talk, because I don’t believe you’d truly let it go until we do. But that will be the end of it, and we may proceed where we left off at the station. I wish for us to remain friends for now. Perhaps, some day in the future…” He shook his head, refusing to dare imagine that far ahead. “If that is enough for you, then we shall proceed.”

Julian bent down and kissed his chufa. “It’s more than I dared hope for.” He lifted up and peered down with unfathomable eyes. “Take me, Garak. I’m yours.”

This might be all they ever had. It might be the closest they ever came to… something more. “Julian. Call me Elim.”

“E-” but their mouths were already connecting, and all other words flew out the zippered door flap. 

They tumbled around inside the bags, rolling until Julian was on his back, and then over to their sides again. The Human reached up to unhook a flap on the tent wall, and cool, clean air wafted over them. Garak glanced out the mesh window, and far above there was the faint twinkle of a few stars. He shivered at the drop in temperature, but they both snuggled deeper into the covers and promptly forgot about it.

Even as they entwined their legs and petted with their hands, he thought about what decision to make. He knew now that Julian would allow him any liberty, but if they had another 3 days left, there was no reason not to start small tonight. Stimulation by hand this time, perhaps mouths the next time, and a complete union on their final night. A delicious slow burn sure to drive the both of them wild, but also give them the chance to learn each other’s bodies and desires. 

Garak had always been gifted at lying. Especially to himself.

They were already naked; they were moaning and panting, and knotted so tight and twisting against each other that his sore muscles burned, and the tender hide of the doctor was probably going to be raw in a few places. His lips felt thick and swollen, his palms sweaty, hard lines of tension corded down his back.

“I meant it, Elim,” Julian rumbled into his ear. “Take me. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Garak balked as the beseeching mouth nibbled and sucked on each scale of his neck and shoulder ridge. “Oh Julian,” he murmured back. “I know you will.” He snaked a hand down between them and took the eager Human penis in his hand. “You’re mine, all mine. My dear doctor.” 

Julian moaned and thrust into his palm. His own hand slid behind to reach for Garak’s groin, where he found only a slit for the time being. Unperturbed, he rubbed over it with his whole hand, then used a finger to trace the seam. As Garak began to pump him, he dipped inside and felt around before he found his quarry, which he coaxed out with only a few strokes. “Oh, it’s so lovely,” Julian praised quietly. “So soft and wet, and the base is so _wide_.” He circled it and wrung his hand back and forth, making his companion squirm. “Are you going to put this inside me?”

Garak gritted his teeth to keep from moaning loud enough to wake their neighbors. “Such filthy language. If you insist on using your mouth that way, maybe you should find another way to keep it busy.”

“Yes, sir.” Julian inched downward, leaving a trail of kisses as he descended. The top bag went with him, exposing Garak’s body to the cool air still sinking through the window. A shiver wracked his body, and the doctor looked back up with concern. Realizing the problem, he flashed a devious grin and pulled the cover over himself and up to Garak’s shoulders. All that was visible now was a large hump between his legs.

The tailor closed his eyes and allowed himself to experience the sensations below his waist. The hot moist air of breath on his crotch, two hands braced on each side of his ajan, a scalding mouth enveloping his member. He bit his lip to keep any sound from escaping as Julian’s tongue, cheeks, and lips massaged up and down his tapered length. His hips snapped up and there was a muffled curse or choke, but no letting up. Two thumbs pried him open and massaged up and down as he was rhythmically sucked off. This was _exquisite_ , and Garak couldn’t for the life of him remember why they’d never done it before.

Just as he drew close to the very edge, he shoved his arms into the bag and pushed Julian off. 

The Human stretched back out next to him while he regained his breath. “Too much?” he asked cheekily.

“Too soon. You’re quite proficient at that. If I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Mm. Not so much. I just do whatever I like to have done to me. I can do a lot more, too, if you’d like.”

“Next time. Your mouth is much better suited to that than to defending your puerile Terran literature anyway.”

Rather than be offended, Julian licked a stripe along his jaw. “Then the next time I’m losing an argument, I’ll just have to switch tactics.”

All of Garak’s blood shot straight to his prUt at the image of the station’s CMO on his knees under the replimat table. Growling, he pushed Julian down and rolled on top of him. “You do that, and you just see what happens,” he threatened before silencing his companion with a rough kiss. 

But Julian managed to free his lips. He ran one bare foot up the back of Garak’s calf. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked huskily. His hips lifted, prodding his dick into the Cardassian’s scaled belly. “If I got you off from it, would it mean I won? Or you?” He chuckled wickedly. “Maybe both of us.”

Garak slid a hand up under Julian’s head and grabbed his hair, watching as his lips parted on a gasp and his pupils expanded. “And  _ you _ like  _ this _ , don’t you? Having me in control, telling you what to do and taking my pleasure?” Julian nodded mutely. His other hand stroked down the Human’s side, from chest to waist, hip to inner thigh. He avoided the heat-drenched organ straining upward and searched below it. First was a skin-encased sack of some sort, covered in downy hairs, and as he explored it his lover whined in the back of his throat. Behind it lay his target. He prodded gently, finding a puckered hole that palpitated under his fingertips. “Is this where you want me, my dear?”

A needy whine was his only reply. 

He flicked gently back and forth, watching Julian’s face twitch and shudder. One finger poked into the center, and he was surprised to find it so dry. “Do you have anything for us to use for this?” he asked quietly. 

Julian blinked his way into awareness and dragged his medkit over. “A good doctor is prepared for anything.” He pulled out a small tube of ointment. It had a medicinal smell, but it would do.

Garak applied a dollop to his fingers and rubbed them together, then reached back down. Julian raised a knee up and to the side, allowing him easier access. This time he slipped easily all the way in. The inside scorched like an oven, and the sphincter muscles constricted around him. He kissed at the corner of Julian’s mouth as he almost tenderly dipped in and out. His palm slid over the sweaty pouch as he inserted a second digit, and Julian cried out faintly. “Shh,” he chided against the panting lips. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?” 

He described a wide circle, stretching the tissues out as his partner trembled under him. 

“More, Elim. Please. I’m ready.”

Garak smiled in the dark. “I can tell. Patience now.” Straddling Julian’s hips, he squirted more balm into his hand and massaged it over himself thoroughly. Maybe a little more, to be safe. He thought about asking what position was preferable, but he had the feeling that right now it was more about the relinquishing of control than the physical alignment. After a moment of internal debate, he lifted one leg and draped it over his shoulder. Yes, that would do nicely.

He braced himself on the ground with the arm under Julian’s leg and used his other hand to guide his way forward. There was the hiss of a sucked in breath but no complaint, so he pushed in. Leaning over the raised leg, he gauged each flutter of the Human’s eyelids and every dart of the nervous tongue. Gliding into the narrow passage, he relished every centimeter of heat that welcomed him. Julian dug a heel into his back to raise his hips, and Garak slotted the rest of the way in, up to the hilt. 

They held in place for a minute and closed their eyes, each taking stock and absorbing the feel of the other. But then Julian clenched tight around him in entreaty, and Garak couldn’t help but oblige. 

He had meant to start slow and work his way up, but at the first withdrawal and lunge he was lost. Grasping at the sleeping bag under his hands, he started pumping rapidly. Julian keened, and he slapped a hand over the open mouth. Muffled yelps and moans found their way though, and Garak replaced the hand with his mouth, swallowing every mewl and wail. 

The body beneath his writhed and contorted, and he lifted up to allow a readjustment. Julian raised both knees and spread his legs, allowing Garak to lie down and cover him from groin to chest. Flush against each other now, they were soon encased in a cocoon of heat with only the caress of night air on their heads for relief.

They started out focusing on the point just north of their joining, Garak stroking his chuva up and down Julian’s cock with each thrust, but once he found an angle that hit upward just right and made the Human buck so hard his head nearly went through the tent wall, all further trials were forgotten. He pummeled the secret inner spot relentlessly, gratified by the nails being raked down his back and the chin raised towards the sky as Julian threw his head back in pleasure. 

As soon as the first high-pitched shriek escaped, Garak covered his mouth a final time, creating a tight seal. Streams of cum spurted out of the trapped organ, and Garak let it send him over the edge as well. He drove in one more time as deep and hard as he could, and the pulse of orgasmic spasms around his prUt triggered a surge of release that seemed to drain every last drop of energy in him.

He collapsed on top of Julian and released his hold. The Human sucked in air and expelled it in a gush, going slack under Garak and dropping his legs. “Oh _god_ ,” he moaned. “That was fantastic.”

“Glad to be of service,” Garak mumbled into his shoulder. “Although now I think that I shall be out of service for the rest of the evening.”

“Morning, really,” Julian corrected.

The tailor didn’t even respond, just sighed a little as he withdrew his organ.

Julian ran one hand over both of them. “Augh. We’re going to need to clean up. What do you think- sanitary wipes in the morning, or try to stay upwind of the O’Briens until we can find a stream or shower?”

Neither prospect sounded particularly appealing. But given the options... “We’ll wake early. I can wash you down, and then you can do me.”

“Sounds lovely.”

They didn’t wake early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn’t figure it out yet, the “surprises” I referred to in the description were orgasms. Sorry not sorry, lol.


	4. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Julian gets injured

Raised, worried voices roused the drowsy sleepers. 

Keiko’s voice rang out. “Garak, Julian, did you move the _bokkas?_ ” 

The Human rubbed sleepily at his eyes through a jaw-cracking yawn, but Garak was already sitting up and alert, so he answered for them. “No, Professor, we did not. I assume they’re gone, then? We’ll be out in just a minute.”

The naked pair hurriedly donned clean clothes, Garak repeatedly dodging Julian’s swinging limbs as he pulled on his shirt and trousers. He stopped the doctor before letting him out of the tent to comb ineffectually at his hair, which was definitely sporting the “thoroughly fucked” morning coif. In response, he received a quick buss on the cheek and a pat on the rear.

The casual displays of affection left Garak feeling astonishingly satisfied and calm. Almost as much as his partner’s insistent but solicitous ministrations a few hours previously. Julian’s post-coital sanitary practices combined all of the clinical treatment of a doctor with the sweet and soft touch of someone who truly cared. Garak had always attended to himself up until now, but having Julian do it for him… It had felt more intimate than anything else they’d done so far. He caught himself smiling in what most likely a wistfully smitten expression and cleared his face before joining everyone else.

There was good news almost immediately. Garak located the _bokka_ tracks without any difficulty, and the indentations suggested that the animals weren’t in any rush but had simply wandered away. Even better was that they’d left in the direction of Keiko’s highlands, so the troop wouldn’t have to backtrack.

The four of them agreed that dashing away immediately to find the beasts could be a problem if they’d moved off too far, so it’d be best to eat something quick and pack up all of their possessions before making chase. They set to work.

For the most part, breakfast and cleanup were silent affairs. Keiko was her usual amicable self, sharing botanical anecdotes and food, but Miles avoided making eye contact with both Julian and Garak, and only responded to direct conversation with monosyllables. His wife cast him several disapproving looks that he pretended not to see.

Once everything was underway, the botanist approached Garak. “Hey, I had some questions about a few Cardassian invasive species that made it onto Bajor. Do you have a few minutes?” She looked at him, then pointedly at Julian, and back again.

Garak held back from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “Doctor, don’t you have something to talk to Mr. O’Brien about? Perhaps your next trip to the holosuite?”

Wide, innocent eyes blinked at the two of them. “Do I?”

Keiko jerked her head in the direction of her plodding husband, who was resolutely ignoring them and clearly not sulking. “C’mon Julian, you’ll have to do it sooner or later anyway.”

“Wha--oh. _Oh._ ” His cheeks darkened and his shoulders drooped. “Couldn’t it wait til later? Say, maybe five years from now?” His pout received no pity. “No? _Fine_ ,” he sighed. His long legs carried him quickly ahead, hugging himself as he mumbled under his breath.

Keiko and Garak trod companionably for approximately twenty seconds before the silence was broken by an eager “So….?”

The tailor had no desire to make it easy. “Since I used to be a gardener, I believe I may be able to help. Which plants did you wish to discuss?”

Keiko nudged him with her elbow. “You know I just made that up. What few plants made their way here during the Occupation, the Bajorans burnt away within a month of withdrawal. Talk to me, Garak.”

Garak made a concentrated effort to examine the _bokka_ prints. “Did it occur to you that if I wanted to, I would have sought you out?” 

“Who else are you going to talk to?” she asked bluntly. “The only person you’ve ever allowed to be your friend is Julian.”

Keiko was right. It wasn’t as if he had a plethora of options when it came to the sharing of confidential information. But it still rankled him that the whole reason he even _needed_ someone else to speak with was probably her doing in the first place. He stopped in the middle of the trail and fixed the botanist with a mild glare. “And now I’m no longer even sure we will be able to remain friends. Did you arrange all of this in the expectation of coercing me and Julian into... becoming _closer_?”

She hopped and clapped her hands together, completely unphased. “You used his name!”

“Answer my question, Professor.”

She dropped her arms and huffed as she stalked past. “ _No,_ I didn’t just invent the trip. This is a preliminary survey. Because this zone has been designated a protected wildlife habitat, you can’t just transport or fly in. You need special permission just to be allowed entry, and vehicles are prohibited. But since the Cardassians didn’t leave any information on what can actually be _found_ here, no one knows if it even really deserves the protection. So I volunteered to check it out. Take some holograms, collect specimens, test the water and soil.”

Despite his vexation with the woman, Garak felt himself drawn in. “A shame. My people are such meticulous record keepers. They could have shared the information.” 

“That would have been kind of them, yes. Anyway, it’s best not to travel alone, so Miles and I thought it might be nice to come out here for a break.”

“And you invited Julian because…?”

“You got me there,” she answered sincerely. “We didn’t really need him along. I just thought…” she shrugged. “It might be fun for the two of you to escape the station for a bit. Get real sunlight on your skin, take in some scenery. Speaking of, look at that!”

The walls of the chasm began to slope down ahead, and the end of the ravine drew into sight. The bright light emanating from the exit made it impossible to see beyond their rocky trail, but it also lit the walls aflame in brilliant hues of orange, bronze, and amber.

Keiko moved closer and lowered her voice. “I really didn’t think you two would move that fast, you know. I thought it’d take the whole 4 days to get you to even acknowledge anything.”

“And what is it you think that we’ve acknowledged now?”

She bent down to pluck a weed and twirled it between her fingers, speaking to it instead of him. “That there’s something between you. That you’re good for each other. That it’s okay to be happy once in a while. Any of those things.” She dropped the plant and met his eyes, her own caring and thoughtful but unnervingly invasive. 

Garak diverted the conversation to a safer topic. “And what does your husband say about that?”

Keiko hummed. “Miles is… Miles. He wants Julian to be happy. It’s just that…” she held a hand out helplessly.

“I’m a Cardassian, albeit an exiled one, and not to be trusted?”

She laid a hand on his arm. “No. He’s jealous.” Garak looked at her incredulously. “Really! Look, Miles comes off as pretty personable, but he doesn’t actually have a lot of close friends. There aren’t a lot of senior officers on DS9 for him to hang around with, not like the Enterprise. He doesn’t even go drinking with the engineers here. Other than me, Julian’s really all that he’s got. And if you think about it, _you_ see Julian more than Miles does.”

“I do?”

“At least once a week for lunch, often twice. An occasional breakfast. Sporting events, a few concerts. A drink in Quark’s.”

Garak felt his eyebrows draw together. “I was under the impression that the doctor visits Ops on a regular basis, and that the chief can be found pretending to repair things in the infirmary often enough to be reprimanded.”

“But that’s technically still at work. Outside of duty hours, Miles spends most of his time at home with us. He might catch a drink with Julian once a week, and join him in the holosuite once a _month_ .” She smiled sweetly. “And the two of them _never_ take long walks around the promenade and habitat ring like you do. Just… walking for the sake of conversation. Do you have any idea how much Julian talks about you when you’re not together?”

“No, I can’t say that I do.”

“Garak, he’s smitten with you. He can’t go five minutes without sharing what your latest novel is, or your opinion on Vulcan poetry, or some plot he thinks that you’re involved in. So of _course_ Miles is jealous.” She sighed. “And okay, he _is_ being a little bit protective, too, but in the big brother sense. He doesn’t want to see Julian get hurt.”

It was an expected assumption, but it still bothered him. “And I am in the position to hurt him.”

“You are. But so is Miles. And Jadzia. Heck, even his parents. You can’t live around other people without a little risk. Anyone who knows you well enough has the ability to hurt you in some way or another.” Garak knew that better than he’d like to admit, but he didn’t reply because they were drawing up to the other members of their party.

Julian and Miles stood waiting for them, avoiding each other’s eyes. The engineer patted his leg absently, although it was difficult to say whether it was in impatience or discomfort. Apparently their exchange hadn’t gone nearly as smoothly.

The doctor focused beyond the boulders strewn about each side of the path, where their plateau opened up to a new panorama. Spread out before them was a prairie of thigh-high to chest-high grasses that ranged from sage to gray to pale blue. A few white flowers dotted the landscape, visited by flutterbys. When a breeze blew waves across the plain, it gave the impression of a large inland sea, wave after wave surging and falling in tandem. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Keiko breathed.

Miles walked over and curled an arm about her waist. “You should grab a few pictures, hon.”

As she dropped her sack to root around, Julian moved up next to Garak. “What do you think?”

“That Humans do entirely too much meddling.”

“About the scenery, you arse.”

Garak surveyed the area. “It holds a certain rustic charm. Unlike the language that periodically spills from your lips.”

“Mm. But my lips are charming, aren’t they.”

Rather than dignify that with a response, Garak let his eyes rove over the path and the plant life until he found the signs he was looking for. He pointed to the right. “The _bokkas_ seem to have gone that way.”

“Oh right, I see all the bent blades. Some of it’s almost the same color as them, isn’t it? I wonder if they’re native to this biome, and their coats are camouflage.”

The party set off after their wayward animals with Garak and Julian in the lead, following tracks roughly parallel to the wall of the plateau. Hushed admonishments and platitudes from the O’Briens followed behind. When the couple stopped and their voices grew louder, they trundled ahead more quickly.

About 2 kilometers in, the rock face opened up into a large cool recess inhabited mainly by large reddish leaves on medium-sized bushes. Munching enthusiastically on the succulent foliage were the lost _bokkas,_ placid and content _._ Their heads rose and fell as they gathered thick mouthfuls to masticate in vacant contemplation. One of them had a leaf impaled on its horn, which it tried to shake off.

“Oh Elim, it’s so gorgeous in here,” Julian breathed, taking Garak’s hand and leading him inside. He plucked the leaf from the _bokka’s_ horn and patted the shaggy coat. “Look at that, there’s even a spring.” Water trickled out of a recess in the far wall, darkening the orange stones into a deep brown. It fell into a small pool at the base, which disappeared back under the rock face several meters away. With a quick squeeze he took off to explore, and his friend was tugged along behind him, offering only token resistance.

The damp air filled Garak’s Cardassian nose with a thick almost metallic scent, peppered with the spice of broken leaves as they passed through. The groundcover turned to moss closer to the spring, and the ground squelched under their feet. The water itself smelled mineral-rich and refreshing. Garak squatted down to run his fingers through the burbling flow while Julian scampered away to hop from rock to rock in an effort to reach the point where the water emerged from the wall.

A squawk and a splash caught Garak’s attention, and he stood up to find Julian on his rear in the pool, wet up to his chest. He observed with mirth as the Human’s face ran rapidly through three emotions: bewilderment, chagrin, and wry acceptance. “Those rocks are more slippery than they look. Well. At least my pack is waterproof.” Anchoring one hand on a large stone and the other under the water, he pushed off. A stab of agony flashed across his face, and he fell back again.

Garak hurried over.

“I-- I think I twisted my ankle,” Julian gasped, trying to rise again. He held his foot up gingerly as he stood, but as soon as he put his weight on it, he collapsed to the side and cried out. 

Garak stood at the edge of the water, awaiting instructions. “Would you like me to take your bag?” he offered. He wanted to help more, but as versed as he was in bodily harm, Julian was still the doctor, and no doubt knew best what he would need. 

“Yes, please.” Sitting on a small boulder, the Human worked the straps off his shoulders and handed his belongings over. His eyes scanned the pool around him. “I think I’m going to need assistance getting out of here; the bottom’s too rocky.” He glanced up anxiously. “Do you mind getting a little wet?”

It wouldn’t matter if that’s what Julian truly needed. “I was due for a good washing this morning anyway. Why not?” 

“Bless you for being so sporting.”

Garak didn’t want his hiking boots wet, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. He crossed over to his friend and tried to ignore the icy water that soaked into his socks and the bottom half of his trousers. He _loathed_ wet clothing and was going to get out of it at his first convenience. But Julian needed him for now, and his attention was soon centered on helping him up and supporting his weight. They hobbled unsteadily to the shore, where the Human settled down on a pile of moss to pull out his tricorder.

“Bugger. It’s sprained _and_ broken. At least it’s only a hairline fracture.” He bit his lip. “But I don’t have the equipment to fix all that.”

Wringing out what little material he could, Garak frowned at him. “I thought you were supposed to be prepared to treat injuries from the rough terrain.”

Julian ducked sheepishly. “I didn’t think we’d _actually_ run into trouble, so I didn’t bring everything. Just the tricorder, a dermal regenerator, and some hypos. The equipment gets heavy, you know. So I didn’t bring the osteo-regenerator. I wouldn’t have been able to carry everything anyway!” He pulled off his footwear and rifled around inside the pack until he found the dermal device, which he started using immediately to repair the surface tissues. “This puts a damper on things.”

“Our medical personnel managed to get himself injured. Wonderful,” Garak griped. He sympathized with Julian’s pain, but he was also annoyed at the fact that they were stuck in the middle of a minimal-contact zone and were going to have some difficulty returning him to safety. He paced back and forth, wanting to sit down but unwilling to sully his outfit any further on the damp earth. 

“I’m still perfectly capable of taking care of any future injuries,” Julian insisted. “Provided I don’t have to stand up to do so.”

Ever the pessimist, Garak goaded him. “And if Keiko or Miles is trapped by a rock slide on the way here?”

The doctor blanched but held firm. “That’s statistically improbable. But if it happens, we’ll work something out.” He gestured to the _bokkas_. “I could use them to ride over.”

“First we have to get you _to_ them.”

They packed the bag up and pulled Julian back off the ground. He tried hopping in the direction of the beasts, but it was obvious he needed Garak’s help. Arms around each other’s waists, they gradually navigated around holes and bushes with minimal success. Every time Julian’s foot brushed a branch or his toes jabbed the ground, he winced and almost fell over. 

Fed up, Garak bent down and hooked his other arm behind Julian’s legs and lifted, literally sweeping him off his feet. Startled, the Human wrapped his arms around Garak’s neck and clung on. But once he realized he was being carried, he laughed and relaxed. “Thank you.”

Garak concentrated on placing his feet safely one in front of the other while unable to see the terrain under them. “It’s nothing, Doctor. We’ll make much better time this way, and with less damage to your person.”

“It’s not nothing,” Julian insisted. “I’m as tall as you!”

“And probably half my mass.” Garak stopped and jostled him a little, as if measuring the body in his arms. “Although I will appreciate you staying still so that I don’t get knocked off balance and send us both into the underbrush. Or worse, suffer the same fate as you.”

Julian pecked him on the cheek and rubbed his chest in affection. “Yes, dear.”

Garak looked down at him in consternation, baffled at the timing.

“If I had known that all it’d take to get me into your arms would be a minor injury, I might have tried it sooner.” Julian placed another kiss on Garak’s neck, and was almost dropped.

“If you do that again, I’ll be forced to throw you over my shoulder instead, like a sack of potatoes,” the Cardassian warned. How was he supposed to concentrate on heroically saving a person, if they were going to do their level best to distract him?

“I can’t say I’d object to our being cheek to cheek.”

It took Garak a moment to picture that, then another to comprehend it. He groaned. “Your sense of humor is abysmal, my dear.”

“What can I say? My brain just sort of shuts off when you’re near. Why do you think I stammer so much when I’m making my point? I get all flustered.”

Yes, that had always been evident, since their very first meeting. But it was still pleasing to hear it admitted aloud. “I always thought the difficulties were due to you talking with your mouth full,” Garak jibed.

Julian smirked at him impishly. “I never thought you’d mind seeing me with my mouth full.”

“Depends on what’s in it, my dear.” Damn distracting.

They stared at each other heatedly for a moment, eyes blazing and heat building between them. Just then, a voice called out from the entrance.

“Hey you two! What did we miss? It looks like you skipped straight to the honeymoon.” Keiko cradled her camera in one hand and waved with the other. 

Garak realized belatedly that he’d never started walking again. He cleared his throat and resumed, picking his way carefully between plants in the direction of the _bokkas_. 

“We’ve run into a bit of a snag!” Julian yelled back. “I broke my ankle!”

“You _what?_ ” Miles exclaimed.

They all met up at their mounts, who’d changed location during their exchange but seemed generally unaffected otherwise. Garak set Julian down so he could explain what happened. 

Miles put his hands on his hips. “Well, whatta we do now?”

“We’re going to have to cut the trip short,” Keiko decided. “And head back. We should probably camp here, or just outside, so Julian can wrap his ankle up and rest tonight.”

“I’d like to get out in the sun if no one minds,” Garak contributed. “Our clothes are wet, and come nightfall I’m sure the temperature will fall below my normal comfort levels.”

“What’s that matter? Won’t you have Julian to keep ya warm?” Miles blushed, realizing belatedly what he’d just said.

Garak leveled a look at him, but he didn’t take it back. Keiko must have given him a thorough talking-to.

The O’Briens led their _bokka_ out of the cove while Garak helped Julian onto theirs. The Human leaned off-center, trying to keep his ankle out of the stirrup and away from the animal’s side. As soon as it began moving, he started sliding off. They made two more attempts before stopping to reassess.

Eventually, Garak joined Julian up on the beast’s back. He took the reigns and had the doctor rotate until he was sitting in a position he referred to as “side saddle,” once again curled into Garak’s chest. It was much easier for him to elevate his foot this way, and they were able to join the others. They parted reluctantly.

“You two are so sweet,” Keiko gushed. “Aren’t they adorable, Miles?”

“Yeah, a regular couple’a lovebirds.” He rolled his eyes. “Enough sunlight for you, Garak?” 

The midday sun glared down from overhead, promising another sweltering afternoon. “Perfect, Chief. Thank you for obliging. Although if you’d prefer to set up your tent back there, don’t let me stop you. Just mind where you lay your sleeping bag. I saw several reptiles running underfoot, and I know how you feel about _lizards.”_

Julian elbowed him, and Keiko glared at her husband. “Boys, cut it out. Let’s have lunch, and then those of you who aren’t hobbled can help me collect plant, water, and soil samples.”

“What about me?” Julian asked.

“You take care of your foot and try not to let anything happen to the other one. Be a good doctor _and_ patient. In fact…” She raised her eyebrows at Garak. “Why don’t _you_ stay here to make sure he doesn’t try to set up camp by himself, and Miles and I will try to get as close to the Highlands as we can.”

The tailor gave her a half-bow. “An ingenious suggestion, Professor.” He knew only too well that Julian was likely to put his well-being second to everyone else’s and would need a few stern reminders about staying put. He’d sit on him, if necessary (and wouldn’t that be nice).

Miles grunted. “Works fer me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a geological term for where they were? It's not a grotto, not a side canyon... I keep wanting to call it an 'alcove,' but that's more of an architectural term.


	5. Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which things get HOT, then cold :O

“I really mucked things up, didn’t I?” Julian mumbled, winding a self-adhesive bandage around his swollen and bruised ankle.

“We all know it wasn’t on purpose, my dear. Your natural curiosity got the best of you. It happens.”

“Do you suppose we could make it back on our own, and Keiko could continue on without us? I’d hate for her to have made it this far and not finish the trip.”

Garak considered. “The trail is clear enough. If you’re comfortable with it, I can return us to civilization.”

Julian flashed a quick grin. “If anyone could, it’d be you, Elim.” The name was stilted on his tongue, as if he was getting used to saying it, but that didn’t make it sound any less sweet. “Let’s do that. And it’ll give Miles and Keiko some real alone time. No guests, plenty of privacy.” He finished up and put his supplies away, but something still seemed to bother him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Most certainly not! Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said these past few years?”

“C’mon, really. I’m serious.” His eyes were earnest.

Garak hoped it wasn’t anything too damning. “Oh, alright.”

“The reason Miles is taking this so hard. He and I, uh, one night a while back… we fooled around a little. We were really drunk, and Keiko had been planetside for a couple months… Yeah.”

So the chief engineer really _was_ jealous. “Why are you telling me this, Julian?”

“I just… don’t want you to think he hates you. I wouldn’t say he’s scared of you, but he’s worried. Now that you and I are, ah, _closer_ , he’s afraid that I’ll tell you what happened, which I guess I just did... and you’ll find some way to use it against him.”

Garak turned the revelation over in his head. That hadn’t been what he was expecting at all. “So Keiko doesn’t know?”

“No, she knows. She’s incredibly understanding, said that as much as they’re apart it makes sense if they take other lovers sometimes. And that a friend is better than a stranger, because it’s someone you can trust. But even so, it never happened again.”

Garak still thought Miles might be jealous, but he didn’t say it aloud. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t hate him either.” The Chief Engineer was a fiercely patriotic man, loyal to the Federation through and through; a banished ex-operative could empathize with that. And he could definitely respect the man’s skill with technology and phasers.

Julian hugged a knee, relief written across his face. “It does make me feel better, actually. It’d really bother me if two of my best friends couldn’t get along with each other.”

Such a tender-hearted Human, so thoroughly naïve but still so endearing. Garak resolved to give an honest effort at being cordial to the Chief, if only to please his dear doctor. Only someone like Julian could bring together a Cardassian with the Hero of Setlik III. 

He also internally sighed in disbelief that he’d slept with someone who’d had sexual relations with Miles O’Brien. What had exile brought him to?

A stretching and moaning figure presented an ample reminder.

Julian raised his arms over his head and rolled his neck. “It’s really starting to warm up. The sun feels so nice.” He exhaled noisily and dropped his arms. “I wish I could walk around and enjoy it.”

“I think you’ve had enough of that already,” Garak chided him. “Let’s not take our chances with any more mishaps. We can’t have you tumbling down a gully or stumbling into the cave of a krelo bear.” Julian sulked in dismay. “But I do have an alternative _proposition.”_ That lit up the doctor’s eyes. “We haven’t finished cleaning up from our exertions last night. We now have plenty of time and solitude to do so.”

“Sounds excellent. I have a sonic sanitizer, but it’s really just meant for small work, cuts and the like. There’s the sani-wipes, or we could wet down a cloth with some water. I suppose we could ride back to the spring and take a _real_ dip there this time.” Julian eyed Garak speculatively. “But it was really cold and mostly in the shade, so you probably wouldn’t like that.”

Garak didn’t mind the method so much as finally getting to see Julian naked, but he knew the Human did have a valid point on the last one. “I suppose we’ll have to settle on the wipes,” he decided. “For the worst of it, anyway. We can stop by the spring when we’ve finished for a final rinse.” And if it was as cold as he remembered, maybe they could find a way to warm up after.

Julian grabbed the pack out of his bag and set it on the ground. “So… do you want to do this here, or…?” His head flicked back and forth, surveying the scenery. “You did mention, ahh, taking turns cleaning each other up?”

Oh yes. “So I did,” Garak agreed, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. He’d been many things in his time, but a personal attendant was not one of them. But when in doubt, take the lead so that at least you’re in control. “Seeing as you’ve been injured, I believe _your_ condition is our first priority, so let’s begin there.” He retrieved a sleeping roll from the now-tethered _bokka_ and shook it out over the grass next to his charge. “Here seems as good a place as any. Do you think you can strip on your own, or do you require assistance?”

A cheeky grin appeared. “I don’t know. I think when I fell, I might have skinned up my palms as well, and maybe wrenched my shoulder a little, so maybe you could help me take everything off?” Julian fluttered his eyelashes as he scooted onto the roll. “I’ll defer to your expertise as a tailor.”

“As well you should,” Garak answered loftily, enjoying the banter. “It’d behoove you to do so more often.” To which Julian stuck out his tongue. Ah, youth. Garak knelt down in front of him and tsked. “You better keep that in place before it finds itself somewhere it doesn’t belong.”

Julian’s pupils doubled in size. “Garak, love, I can’t think of a single place right now where I wouldn’t put it.”

The Cardassian growled before he could stop himself, and shoved his impetuous Human back onto the ground to straddle his waist. He pushed the shoulders down into the dirt. “That mouth. I don’t know why everyone lets you get away with the things you say. If you continue to behave like this, you may just find yourself gagged some day.”

Julian gaped up at him with a mixture of fear and arousal. “Is that a promise?” he asked fervently. “No one’s ever tried before, and I believe you mentioned a few minutes ago that my natural curiosity often gets the best of me.”

Oh, it was a good thing Garak was already exiled, because Julian would have been the end of him otherwise. He would have taken one step aboard Deep Space Nine and discovered a dozen excuses to stay and collect intelligence on the officers there. One in particular. He braced one forearm across the Human’s chest to hold him down and plunged his hand into the thick brown hair. Gripping a handful, he descended hungrily to silence what was likely going to be one more provocation. The declaration died before it started. Their mouths opened and closed eagerly while tongues darted and tangled between deep breaths. 

They devoured each other under the rising sun, amid the sizzles and pops of water evaporating out of the green and gray stems around them. The fabric over Garak’s back grew hotter and hotter, and he considered removing it before remembering what he was supposed to be doing in the first place. After nipping at Julian’s bottom lip, he pushed away and sat back up. “This isn’t entirely conducive to our plans,” he declared. “In fact, I believe you’re even dirtier now than when you began.”

Julian glanced in the direction the O’Briens had gone. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got the whole day to ourselves, Elim. There’s no rush.”

That sounded like a challenge to Garak. “Precisely,” he stated. He backed off and moved to the farthest possible end of the bedding. 

Harrumphing in frustration, Julian sat back up and crossed his arms. 

“Now that won’t do.” Garak returned and untangled the lanky limbs so he could lift the hem of the shirt and pull it over Julian’s head. He reached for the bottoms next but stopped himself. “You’re going to have to take care of those yourself,” he stated regretfully. “I don’t want to inadvertently cause any more harm to your ankle.”

“Fair enough.” Julian made short work of it, tossing the garment carelessly away into the grass. He fingered the elastic band of his Starfleet briefs. “These too?” Garak inclined his head, and those were also swept off, with a minor snag at the bandages. Julian arranged himself to rest on one hand with his legs bent to the side, posing brazenly, even though his eyes dipped demurely, shy even when putting himself on display. “If we take too long doing this, I’m going to have a very interesting tan by the time we get back.”

Bold of him to assume Garak would leave him uncovered for any length of time. It was difficult enough at the moment not to pick up where they’d left off. But he curbed his impulses and instead retrieved a wipe from the pack that had been knocked aside. “Isn’t your skin already tan?” he inquired, moving forward. He took hold of Julian’s jaw and began dabbing with short, efficient strokes down the slender neck.

“Oh, I can get _much_ darker,” the Human replied, his voice strangled a bit by the limited motion of his mouth. “What I’m worried about is the parts of me that don’t _normally_ see daylight getting a bit of a burn.”

“A _burn?_ That sounds dangerous.” Garak ran the wipe up and down along his nape and around to the other side.

“Not really. Just annoying, maybe a little painful.” Julian closed his eyes, a smile playing over his lips as Garak ran the cloth along his collar bones. It was marvelously diverting, and the tailor found himself covering the same spot twice while he watched the blissful face. He disposed of the wipe and took a new one, trying to determine where to cover next. 

He eyed the brownish, almost purple, circles on Julian's chest. The little nubs in the center were the closest thing he seemed to have to ridges, and Garak decided they were fascinating. “Do these burn?” he asked curiously. He flicked the pad of his index finger over one.

Julian let out a little gasp. “Mine never have, but yes, it’s possible. The skin there is _quite_ sensitive, so it can be a nuisance if they do burn.”

Garak hummed. He gave the adornment a little tweak, eliciting a squeak from its owner. Both it and its twin hardened and extended slightly, like a few of the Cardassian crests when stimulated correctly. Sensitive indeed. But no. Not yet. _Concentrate, Elim._

He withdrew and swiped perfunctorily across the pectorals, intrigued by the sparse covering of hair that crackled under the cloth. His own hide was too tough to be bothered by it, but he wondered if it tickled Human mates.

He nudged Julian to rotate and ran the wipe several times down his back. Left side, right side, down the spine. The Human performed a strange little stretch and wiggle as he did, so he repeated it, travelling even further south. The same results. He was going to have to catalogue all of these reactions for future use. 

When he turned Julian around, it was to see the doctor growing visibly aroused. His highly external (and therefore vulnerable) lower anatomy seemed to be perking up. Garak switched out cloths again, trying to avert his eyes as he smoothed over each thigh and knee. He didn’t want to get too sidetracked yet. The calves and shins were next.

As he continued to scrub, focusing especially on a spot of mud, Julian’s cock began to take on a life of its own. Unlike Garak’s, which maintained nearly the same shape whether it was inside or out, this one slowly transformed before his eyes. It grew gradually darker, flushing even more than the Human’s cheeks ever did, and slowly lengthened, stretching out of its wrinkles. It reminded him uncomfortably of a lizard slipping back _into_ its shed skin instead of shucking it off. But only for a moment. This skin appeared undeniably soft and leathery, like an expensive suede. He faintly remembered caressing it the night before, how the outer layer had slid up and down over the harder core, and only now did he recall just how much had been encased in his grip.

The organ looked… thick. The uniform girth wasn’t any wider than the base of the average Cardassian prUt, but the sheer volume of flesh overall was just a little intimidating. And the length wasn't anything to laugh about, either. Unquestionably longer than Garak’s, or any other he’d seen among his race. Dukat would be horrendously jealous if he were to find out just how large a phaser Humans customarily packed in their pockets. He’d have to find a way to inform the Gul. Perhaps an encrypted pornographic piece sent to his private account.

Or his professional one.

His eyes kept returning to phallus, which was even duskier than before, and on its way to being erect. Human bodies had such a wide range of color, he mused, not only between individuals but on even a single body like Julian’s. No uniform gray from scalp to toe; there were the pinkish lips, the paler undersides of arms and palms, the shaded creases under arms and where thighs met pelvis. Garak could spend a day just comparing tones from one expanse to the next. Not that he’d ever be so inclined with such a vivacious yet tender specimen beneath his hands and so many _other_ things to do instead.

By the time he made it to Julian’s soles, the poor Human was biting his lips and digging his nails into his palms. An absolutely delectable, quivering mess. Feigning regret and masking his glee, Garak set aside the last wipe. “I believe that should be sufficient for now.”

“Are you sure?” Julian’s eyebrows raised, wrinkling his forehead. “I think you may have missed some _crucial_ spots.”

Garak waggled a finger under the arch of one foot and watched it’s owner get closer and closer to losing control. “I don’t want you getting too distracted just yet, my dear. You haven’t given me _my_ cleaning.”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” Julian murmured, taking a deep, measured breath. Carefully working around his ankle, he got up on his knees to help Garak out of his tunic. To the tailor’s relief, he actually folded it acceptably and he set it aside. He then hungrily drank in the Cardassian’s torso, eyes skirting side to side and then down the center. “You really are magnificent, my friend,” he complimented. “I’m sorry I missed all this last night, but I feel like I can really appreciate it now, out here in the sunlight.” Starting on the left shoulder, he traced inward, then did the same with the right shoulder, following the scales lining Garak’s clavicles. 

Garak shivered under the touch, and bemoaned the fact that one specific part was being avoided. “It would be most appreciated if you’d pay attention to my chula,” he commented softly. “The crest in the center.” Julian’s eyes met his then flicked down as he raised a finger and centered it in the divot of the organ. Embers flared behind it, heating Garak’s chest. “It may look like scale, but I assure you it’s very delicate skin; the chemicals on those wipes could irritate it,” he lied. “But if you could find something less abrasive to sanitize it with… perhaps saliva? I’ve heard it has antibacterial properties.”

Rather than question or even correct the claim, Julian simply smirked and bent over until he was on all fours. He breathed on the fixture first, causing another little shudder, then licked straight up the center. “Like that?” he puffed against it. Without waiting for a response, he lapped again, laying the whole flat of his tongue over the dip. 

A line of fire shot straight down from the point of contact and into Garak’s ajan. His fingers twisted into the sleeping roll. “That works,” he gasped in a most undignified way.

Julian kissed his way up until he reached the neck and shoulder ridges, which he nuzzled before settling on a few to suck on. He rested a hand on each side of Garak’s legs, making the tailor feel a little boxed in, but in a way that thrilled more than troubled him. It only took the gentlest pressure to nudge him backward onto his elbows, and Julian’s cock bobbed over his legs as the Human covered him. The astronomically heated body flattened itself over him, pressing the member into his groin. The heavy bulge ground into him as Julian mouthed over his neck, and Garak debated internally about just how brave he was feeling this time around.

He straightened out, wondering if _maybe_ he could… how _much_ he could… 

Garak was no stranger to receiving, had in fact done almost solely that when seducing various government and military officials in his younger days. But this was a Human he was with, the anatomy still unfamiliar and girthier than his previous conquests. 

As Julian nibbled his way along Garak’s jaw ridges, his hand snuck under the Cardassian’s trousers. It met the chuva first, and traced the raised crest in interest. “Is this one just as sensitive as the other?” he asked.

“More so,” Garak groaned back as his mind blanked.

Two fingers ran down the sides of the crest, and one came back up the middle. Excited jolts danced around inside Garak’s ajan, only to swirl into a well of wanting as the finger rubbed up and down vigorously. The hands that he had been running down Julian’s back clenched, and he dug his nails into the corded muscles.

The Human hissed out a laugh. “Oh, you like that, do you?” He made little loops inside the divot, winding Garak tighter and tighter beneath him. His palm rubbed over the chuva as he tracked downward, and two fingers dipped inside the slit. Garak’s hips bucked as a sliver of fire shot down his legs. 

“Julian,” he grated out. “I know I said that I wanted to take this slowly…”

“Mmm, say no more, love.” He undid the fastenings of his partner’s trousers and backed away to slide them down and off. When he slithered back up, he dragged the travel bag with him. “Where’d I put that tube?” he murmured quietly as he dug around inside.

Garak sucked in a deep breath. “Actually, we won’t need that… if we were to… reverse our positions from last night.”

Julian cocked his head as he processed that. “You want me to top you this time?” Garak gritted his teeth but nodded, getting a sweet smile in return. “Well, in my expert opinion, sweetheart, there is no such thing as too much preparation.” He deftly pulled out the object of his search. “Or lube. Especially the first time around.”

Garak had never needed any additional help during his youth, had in fact enjoyed the burn of friction once he gained the implant. But perhaps in this situation and with this partner, he should accept the considerate suggestion. The words ‘love’ and ‘sweetheart’ echoed in his head while he watched Julian sit back on his haunches, applying liberal amounts of clear ointment. He tossed the tube into the open pack and sat beside Garak’s hips.

“I haven’t been with anybody with this particular configuration before, so you’re still going to have to tell me what to do. To start off with… Should I straddle you, or get between your legs?”

Garak pondered both. With Cardassians, more often than not the answer was neither; one body just lined up over the other. The fine scales on their thighs were made to respond to just such a position. If the ajans were situated properly, a skilled lover could evert directly into their partner, which was obviously not the case here. Julian was going to need the leverage of his knees. However, the idea of spreading his legs felt far too vulnerable to Garak, while closing his legs felt too stiff and formal. He was undecided. “What would you prefer, my dear?”

“Well, from a _doctor’s_ perspective…” The way Julian always said ‘doctor’ was so charming. “Would you mind a quick examination?”

“If you feel that would help.”

Julian checked to make sure his fingers were slick enough, then brushed them over Garak’s opening. He glanced up for permission, then dipped inside. There was a curious swipe along each side wall, and a curling quest to the front, which stroked along his tucked away prUt. “Will this be staying in place, or coming out?”

“Coming out. But the muscles that are in control will take its place.”

“Makes sense.” The finger was withdrawn for Julian to comfortably flip his hand over, then insert two fingers inward and down. They reached the second opening and prodded gently. “And this is where I’d be going?” 

Garak’s innermost muscles squeezed reflexively at the touch. He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.” The fingers slid out.

“Yes. I’m sure I want this.” He tried to smile reassuringly, to ease both their minds. “It’s only been a while is all.”

Julian’s face softened. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

Of course he would. Bolstered, Garak propped himself up on an elbow to squeeze the Human’s knee. “You don’t have to be. I’m no freshly-bloomed bud, my dear. More of a mature rose, thorns and all.”

“Mm. I like the sound of that. You have such a way with words.” One final sani-wipe ran over Julian’s hands. “Well. I think I know where everything is, more or less. So if you don’t mind... may I lie between your legs? It’ll be the easiest for staying steady since I’m probably going to be holding my foot off the ground.” He grimaced.

Garak had forgotten about that. He did care about Julian’s comfort, which made his choice much easier. “Please do.” He opened up (and tried to ignore the symbolism).

The Human situated his knees between Garak’s and stroked himself a few times. Grinning provocatively, he leaned over to apply his mouth first. Garak felt a strong wide tongue lap inside him, and his concerns melted away like Idanian spice pudding in the sun. When it darted around his prUt to tickle the underside, his arms gave out and he lowered himself onto the sleeping roll. Julian teased his organ mercilessly until it began to evert, then sucked it into his mouth.

Garak made a fist and pounded it against the ground, amazed once again at the intensity and sheer heat inside the mammal’s body. And soon enough it was going to be inside _him_.

As if he could read thoughts, Julian raised up. “You taste delicious, Elim. Sort of sweet and rich, like honey.” He inserted two fingers and drew them back out to take a lick while meeting Garak’s eyes. “Care for a taste?”

The tailor had never been so brazenly questioned before, not about something like this, and he felt his jaw drop open. Julian took it as an invitation, stretching out over Garak before kissing him deeply. The flavor was exactly as he’d described it, heady and cloying.

When they came up for air, Julian’s eyes were dark, his pupils blown. “I can’t believe we’re about to do this,” he said quietly. “You’ll tell me if I do something wrong, won’t you?”

Garak ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Yes, my dear.”

He was kissed again. “I love when you say that.” Julian lifted up to reposition himself, using his hand to take careful aim.

Unable to look away, Garak watched the penis descend, saw the tip disappear behind his chuva a split second before it kissed his entrance. He felt his seam spread open around the bulbous crown, the deep pressure of it pushing inside. He heaved in deep, steady breaths, the same as Julian, consciously relaxing to let it sink into his secondary opening. A sense of fullness accompanied the insertion, his tissues pressing inwards to hug the organ as it burrowed ever so slowly forward.

Julian paused, arms quivering, to lock eyes with him. “Are we all right?”

Garak squeezed his shoulder. “We are.”

A few more centimeters, and then there was nothing more to give. Julian was tucked away inside him, as intimate as could be possible for two Humanoid bodies. He closed his eyes to rest his forehead on Garak’s, pushing lightly on the chufa. His breath puffed over Garak’s lips and nose. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Wow. Alright.” 

Garak ran a hand soothingly down his back. “Do you still require direction?”

Julian’s eyes were imploring. “Please?”

“Roll your hips. It’ll help loosen my muscles for more active participation.”

“Like this?” He shifted to the left, backed out a little, to the right, and back in again.

Garak pressed his lips together at a slight burn. “A little less, maybe.”

Julian wriggled in smaller circles, plunging shallowly in and out with each rotation.

Sparks danced through Garak’s ajan, and his eyes closed instinctively. “Oh, just like that. You move as if you were born to this.”

“Anything for you, love.” Julian kissed the ridges under his eye, thumbs rubbing over both shoulders as his hips gyrated round and round. His cock twitched eagerly and he gasped, dropping his head to the blanket beside Garak’s. “Are-- are you… feeling looser yet?”

The tailor chuckled. “In a manner of speaking.” He raised his hips a little and gave an experimental internal squeeze. Julian yelped and bucked in surprise. Feeling mischievous, he repeated the action and garnered similar results. “Julian,” he mumbled sideways into his partner’s hair. There was only a whine in reply, a heaving chest against his, fingers curling tightly into his upper arms. “My Julian.”

The sound of his name spoken twice roused the Human, who kissed his way along Garak’s cheek until their lips converged again. A long, slow glide out accompanied the warm, heavy movements of their mouth, followed by another languid lunge back in. They rocked slowly, Julian pushing with his knees and Garak canting his hips to meet each deliberate thrust.

On his back with such a slight weight covering him, yet so completely suffusing his being, Garak opened his eyes to stare up at the sky. The space above them was a pale blue halo around Julian’s head that faded into a vibrant indigo ring around the horizons, accentuating the fact that they were encased in a planetary sphere. It felt so much smaller at the moment, like another tent around them, this one filled with waving grasses and the smell of peaty soil. He released one hand from Julian’s back to sweep it through the sage and steel-blue blades, which bent and whispered under his palm. A caramel-toned hand met his, interlocking their fingers to draw him back.

It was bittersweet, knowing that this was likely to be their final coupling. To sear it in his memory, Garak wanted to amplify every sensation between them, to feel skin against scale and pulse to pulse, and wring every last drop of pleasure from their beings. He raised his knees, hugging Julian’s waist between them, and the couple ceased moving to stop and gaze into each other’s eyes in what was probably the most intense and frank stare they’d ever shared, barely blinking, barely breathing. Something rough and fierce filled Garak’s heart and threatened to spill out and jeopardize everything that he had hidden away for the past several years, and he held his breath. 

It felt as if the planet’s entire gravity had become centered on them. Their faces drew together as inexorably as a comet into a black hole and their lips barely touched, just a flicker of contact that burned like ice, and then Garak’s legs wrapped around Julian’s and they ground together so tightly that it felt like they fused. A blinding flash swept through Garak, consumed him, and they climaxed as one, screaming into each other’s mouths and mingling fluid essences between their bodies.

They clung to each other for an indeterminate amount of time after, heartbeats nearly in sync and other organs trading aftershocks. Garak could taste salt and copper from where one of them had bit his lip. Everything else, though, was either warm and sated or blissfully numb.

Julian’s eyes were wide and guileless over him, green and brown intermixing in a unique way not seen in any other race of Humanoid. Behind them, emotions roiled and surged, one rapidly taking prevalence over the others. He shook his head, pressed his lips together. “I- I can’t,” he burst out. “Elim, I don’t want things to go back to normal when we return to the station. I… I love this, and I love _you_.” 

Garak froze. He’d known it was coming; he hadn’t stopped it, had mentally sung in joy at the pronouncement, but it was brief and it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. He scrambled backward, pushing Julian off and himself into the turf. “You can’t say that,” he accused, not sure why he was angry. “You know I can’t say it back. You’re being selfish.” He grabbed for his clothes. “You said you understood. No, Julian. No.”

The flushed and hurt face tore at him, but no more than hearing those three words in the first place. “Elim-”

“I said no.” Garak pulled his tunic on, wrapping it around his torso like a robe, and backpedaled with the rest of his garments. 

There were tears now, and Julian tried to get up to chase after him, but he’d forgotten his injury and collapsed in a cry of pain.

Garak ignored it. He crossed behind the _bokka_ so that he would no longer be in line of sight, and headed for the shaded canyon to wash up. 

He cleared his mind as thoroughly as possible on the way. Every grin and glance that had been shared between them on the trip fragmented and dissolved as he walked, until all that remained was their arrival on the planet’s surface. No sharing a ride, no night in the tent, no--

He steeled himself, then stepped into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I… I almost feel bad about writing such a steamy scene and ending it with drama.  
> Almost.  
> But it’ll get better, I swear! After... a fist fight and time in the brig to get some of the turmoil out.  
> Don’t look at me like that.


	6. A Month Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Garak and O'Brien get themselves thrown in the brig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this is me loving that Julian isn’t just some bimbo. I heart Tough Julian.

Garak bit at the pin in his mouth, realizing too late that he’d inserted the sharp end. _This is what happens when you keep working through meals,_ he chided himself while his tongue stung painfully. He pulled the pin out and wiped it on a scrap before stabbing it resentfully into the jacket he was constructing. His eyes remained firmly affixed on the fabric, lest they stray to the chrono or the promenade, where Dr. Bashir would be passing by any moment on his way to the replimat. To dine alone.

He cursed himself for the hundredth time. For sentimentality, for weakness, for starting something that he had no business being a part of. 

For allowing himself to dream, however briefly, of being with someone who not only appreciated his company, not only thought about the things he did and enjoyed the same pursuits, but who desired him. Cared about what he did. Loved him.

Another sting distracted him again, as a hidden pin pricked the pad of his index finger. He cursed and pulled his hand out, just in case there was any blood that might leave a stain. As he did, a blinking light drew his attention to his padd, signaling a notification.

His throat tight, he strove to ignore it. It might be _him_ , sending one final request to meet for lunch. Garak hadn’t answered a signal missive in the past month, but they’d continued to arrive every couple days. Until petering out about a week ago. 

So it _might_ not be Julian.

Maybe his new roll of Andorian velvet had come in. Perhaps Captain Sisko or Constable Odo had a request, or Quark was willing to trade something he’d overheard for a few strips of latinum. It could conceivably be Lieutenant Dax requesting another elaborate gown for the holosuites. It could be anyone, right?

He set down the jacket and picked up the padd. It was a message from Keiko. He opened it, expecting a question about kimono fabric or mending one of her daughter’s heirloom outfits. Instead, there was a picture.

Garak recognized it right away; there was no mistaking the Bajoran landscape. He knew that he should close the attachment immediately, delete it, forget it. But his finger tapped on the center anyway, and it expanded to fill the screen.

Deep red leaves spread across the foreground, set off by rusty rock walls behind them. Among the foliage and clearly the focus of the picture were two pale blue-green _bokkas,_ one with its head down, the other gazing curiously toward the camera. The scene was almost Cardassian in tone and composition: rich, vibrant color filled with warmth despite the absence of any sun. 

Except there was one additional detail. In the background, off to the side, stood a figure. Gray and broad-shouldered, he cradled someone in his arms, a person curled adoringly into his chest. Their postures and faces spoke clearly of passion and affection, and the scene was transformed by their presence, making it less idyllic and more… fanciful.

Such a thing would probably never be found on Cardassia.

He tapped on the picture again to make it shrink, and caught the title. 

_Dreams Can Come True_

Garak threw the padd across the shop.

How dare she interfere like that.

He tossed his work on the nearest surface and headed for the exit. He needed to get out and take a break before he ruined an hour’s worth of stitching or broke something valuable. Storming out the front door, he immediately collided with a solid body moving past at the same furious pace.

They both let out an “oof” and put up their hands in apology, but the words died on his tongue when Garak saw who it was. “Chief O’Brien,” he said cautiously with a curt nod.

“What was that for?” the Human said in surprise, his face turning red.

“It was an accident, I assure you. Although it might not have been so forceful if you hadn’t been in such a hurry or paid attention to where you were going.”

Miles squared his shoulders. “You don’t _have_ accidents. That was on purpose. I was on my way to lunch with Julian, and you knew it. Probably _spying_ on him or something.” He pointed a finger in Garak’s direction. “You leave my friend alone.”

Irritation and resentment boiled up inside Garak. “And you tell your wife to leave _me_ alone.”

The Human took a menacing step forward. “Don’t you talk about my wife.”

Garak sneered. “Your _wife_ is meddlesome and has no business trying to get involved in my affairs.”

“ _Affairs_? Pah! That was barely a fling. It was a mistake is what it was. Told her myself, and then you went an’ proved it.”

Pedestrians were slowing around them, giving a wide berth while paying too much attention for Garak’s comfort. But he raised his chin haughtily, wanting to get in one last barb. “A mistake? You mean like what happened between you and Julian?”

He was able to partially block the swing that came his way, but it still glanced off his jaw hard enough to leave a mark. Garak’s head snapped to the side, and Miles used the opening to shove him into the shop windows. The Cardassian tried to twist out of his grip and sweep a leg under him, but the Human had enough combat training to avoid it. 

A fierce sort of thrill shot through the Garak. He’d always wanted to pit himself against the Hero of Setlik III, and this time around he could do so while not under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. He threw himself into the tussle wholeheartedly, and soon they were rolling around the floor of the promenade, fists flying, knees jabbing, curses and growls peppering the air.

It was less than two minutes before they were separated, a tentacle wrapping itself around Garak’s waist and Captain Sisko pulling O’Brien into a Starfleet shoulder lock. They were wrenched apart and forced onto their feet, chests heaving and eyes shooting daggers.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” bellowed the Captain, getting between them.

“Garak attacked me!” the engineer shouted. “I was on my way to lunch, and he came after me.”

Eerily still, Sisko looked at Garak. “Is that true?”

“I was simply leaving my shop for a spell when this _Algorian mammoth_ came barreling through.”

Hands behind his back, Odo squinted. “It sounds like a random, unplanned collision to me, but that shouldn’t result in an all-out brawl. Something else is going on here.”

Sisko nodded. “I agree. You’re both headed to the brig for disturbing the peace. Possibly assault. Let’s go.”

Odo’s deputies dispersed the crowd, and the four of them made their way silently to the security office. As soon as the door slid shut, both Garak and Miles started pleading their cases, but the Captain raised his hands imperiously. “Mr. O’Brien. I’m disappointed in you. _First_ you and Mr. Worf, now you and the station’s tailor. You should know better.” He glared at Garak. “And you. You _know_ you’re on thin ice with some of the shit you’ve pulled, and I’ve put myself on the line keeping you out of trouble more than once. This is the thanks I get? I don’t want to hear it from _either_ of you.” He pointed into the back. “Constable, lock them up.”

Odo wavered on his feet. “Um yes, well. Two of the cells are already taken up. One is Morn and the other is a Nausicaan. That leaves only one space available.”

Sisko swung his head in frustration and massaged his temples. “ _Another_ bar fight? It’s barely noon.”

Garak stepped forward. “If I may offer a suggestion-”

“No. You may not. Put them in the same cell. Make them talk it out. It seemed to work fine the first time.” The captain gave Miles a mild stare. “You and Worf _did_ work it out, right?”

“Uh, yessir. I mean yes... Captain.”

“Good. I’ll tell Keiko where you are. Mr. Garak, will you be missing any appointments?”

Garak considered lying, but decided it would serve no purpose. “Only the customers that would be patronizing my shop.”

“We’ll put up a closed sign. Odo, don’t let them go without my say-so. I’ll be back in…” he checked the time on a nearby screen. “4 hours. Maybe.”

The constable led them away. When the forcefield went up, he stood for a moment and observed his prisoners, as if he was waiting to see if more violence broke out, or maybe wanted to give them a piece of his mind. Instead, he huffed loudly and walked off. Garak thought he caught the whisper of a smug smile as he turned away.

The Nausicaan in the far cell looked supremely bored, but Morn was turned their direction in apparent interest. Miles sketched a friendly wave and sat down. Grudgingly, Garak seated himself at the opposite end. They kept their backs to each other as best they could and began cataloguing injuries.

Garak’s tough Cardassian hide had protected him from scratches and scrapes, but he was definitely feeling the effects of their skirmish throughout his body. His jaw still throbbed and his throat was sore from a lucky elbow thrust, while the back of his neck was raw from rug burn. One hip felt stretched and twisted, but not dislocated, thank goodness. His knuckles and knees ached persistently. At least he’d retained all of his clothing; O’Brien was missing a shoe.

Their personal examinations were interrupted by the changeling’s return, a visitor in tow.

It was Julian, and he looked extremely put out. 

“Congratulations. You ruined my lunch.”

Miles jumped to his feet and sputtered. “Wha- Bu- Aren’t there nurses on duty they could have sent?”

Unimpressed, Julian set down his medkit. “Of course. But since you’re both _my_ friends and not theirs, Captain Sisko thought I might be able to talk some sense into you. Not that either of you would listen.”

“Well, look. I can explain--” The Irishman pressed forward, waving his arm, and smacked the forcefield. “Ow! Shite.” He shook his already bruised and swollen hand and gave it a dirty look. 

Julian strode forward sternly. “I don’t really care to hear any explanations. The fact that the two of you chose barbarism rather than civil conversation tells me all I need to know.”

“Now Julian, it’s not like that. You know how these things can get sometimes-”

“ _What_ things?” he asked icily.

Miles stammered some more, and Garak observed with disdain. _He_ wasn’t going to make any excuses, much less refer in any way to the past several weeks. Odo watched avidly, and the rest of them avoided meeting his eyes.

The doctor turned his back on them to retrieve his tools. “Who threw the first punch?”

Garak thought it best if Julian didn’t view him through rosy glasses, so he decided to shoulder the blame. “I did.” His cellmate looked startled.

The doctor swallowed and nodded sharply. “Alright. Miles, you’re first.” 

“Wait- No. Ah, it was me, Julian. I… I hit Garak first.”

Julian appraised him coolly. “I see.” He nodded to the constable, who typed in a code to bring down the field. His eyes flicked nervously at Garak as he stepped up. “Are you going to tell me where you’re hurt, or shall I scan your whole body?”

Garak adjusted himself to look as casual and relaxed as possible. “An examination isn’t necessary, Doctor. All of my wounds are quite superficial.”

“You let _me_ be the judge of that. Whole body it is, then.” He raised a tricorder to Garak’s temple. The Cardassian tried to swat it away and found his wrist in an iron grip. He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to fight Julian. And hoped he would never have to. 

“ _G_ _arak,”_ the doctor ground out through a clenched jaw, “you have a minor concussion.” He lowered the tailor’s arm but didn’t let go as the tricorder progressed downward. “Your ribs are bruised but intact; that’s a relief,” he muttered. “And you tore some cartilage in your hip.” He grunted and stood up, reluctantly letting go. “Odo, he’s going to need a visit to the infirmary.”

Odo grunted back. Garak wondered if that was something he’d picked up from Humans. Cardassians would never make those ape-like sounds.

Miles stayed quiet during his scan. Not much of what Julian said made it to Garak’s less-than-stellar Cardassian hearing, but he saw the doctor run an osteoregnerator over a few fingers and toes. The abrasion on his cheek was sanitized but not removed. There’d be no hiding his indiscretion from his wife or passersby. 

Julian tapped his badge. “Bashir to Jabara. The Constable’s going to be escorting a patient to the infirmary. He needs a brain scan and repair to the cartilage in his right hip. I’m going to finish what’s left of my break, but let me know if anything of concern shows up.” With a stony face betrayed by a tick in his jaw, he exited the cell and strode out of Security. Not even a glance back.

As soon as Miles was secured, Odo and Garak left together. They adopted a leisurely pace to the infirmary, for which the tailor was secretly grateful.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” the changeling grumbled in his characteristic gravelly voice.

“Merely a misunderstanding,” Garak answered lightly. “It’s all cleared up now, and I’m positive it won’t happen again.”

“Hmm. It wouldn’t have anything to do with Dr. Bashir, now would it?”

“Certainly not!” Sometimes the constable’s perceptiveness was disturbingly uncanny.

Odo rolled his eyes. “You should have seen your reactions when he walked in. The color drained out of Chief O’Brien’s face, and you suddenly decided to look anywhere _but_ in our direction. With those responses, one might draw the conclusion that you’re embarrassed by either your behavior or his presence. Or both.” Before Garak had a chance to reply, he crossed his arms as they entered the front office and designated himself a corner to skulk in.

The Bajoran on duty treated Garak briskly and efficiently, despite the expression of stern disapproval on her face. She had him lie down on a biobed and pull down his slacks on one side, in full view of everyone, so she could repair his tissues none too gently. From what he knew of Jabara, her gruffness was more due to the public scene he’d caused than the transgressions of his people. At least she didn’t force him to don one of those horrid purple gowns with the orange seams.

The brain scan took longer, but it yielded no readings of consequence, other than a few small anomalies that were chalked up to scarring from the implant.

Their return walk was equally tiresome to their arrival, if less painful. “It’s not like you to lose your temper, Garak. The Chief must have really said something to get under your skin. I’ve seen you let Klingons break your ribs just to maintain your cover as a tailor, yet this man you’ve worked with professionally and covertly over the years managed to draw you into what could have been a deadly altercation.” Odo stopped before entering Security. “Something happened on that trip, didn’t it? All four of you have been acting _peculiar_ since returning. And now this. What’s going on?”

Garak knew why they’d halted at this particular location. As soon as they set foot through the door, everything they said would be recorded. He decided to dole out a small portion of the truth, if only to satisfy Odo’s curiosity and end his litany of questions. “The doctor and I spent a good deal of time together on Bajor. The injury that he returned with happened in my company. Everything after that became rather… strained.”

Odo looked thoughtful. “Yes, as I recall, the two of you returned early.” He stroked his chin. “And did you have any part in causing the damage to his ankle?”

“No, of course not. But it did put a damper on things.” Garak tried to appear properly contrite, which was only occasionally successful with the changeling.

“Chief O’Brien may not be fond of you, but I can hardly find him holding such a grudge against you if it truly wasn’t your fault.” Odo’s eyes glinted. “And it also doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding Dr. Bashir since then.”

He wasn’t buying it, that much was clear. Garak was going to have to give him some morsel of information, something that was awkward or sensational enough to make him back off. Why hadn’t he prepared something for just such an occasion? His mind spun furiously. 

“Save your breath, Garak. I can tell you’re putting together a lie.” Odo looked away, watching people pass them. “Whatever happened between the two of you was obviously of a sensitive nature. It’s clear just by watching the doctor’s face whenever he passes by your shop or someone mentions your name. I overheard Leeta discussing it with Rom. _She_ said he’s been acting… heartbroken.”

Garak pushed away the pain in his chest and chose to focus on his response. Yes. This was something he could work with. And it was even true. Mostly. 

He sighed with just the faintest hint of melodrama and raised a hand to his chest. “Alright, Odo. You seem to have figured it out anyway. While Julian and I were alone, he… confessed harboring some romantic feelings toward me. I was unable to reciprocate, _for obvious reasons_ , and he took it rather poorly. Mr. O’Brien even more so, seeing as I’d upset his closest friend. I’m sure they’ll get over it soon enough, and this whole thing will fade away. The… incident between the chief and I was simply a matter of poorly chosen words.”

Odo shook his head and tapped the entry padd. “You’re getting rusty, Garak. Either your falsehoods are becoming less and less believable, or you’ve begun lying to yourself just as much as everyone else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing Sisko and Odo. I hope I got their tones down.  
> BTW, brainstorming is a wonderful thing. Honestly, the fight and brig were not my idea. I was originally planning on ending this after the very first part, but decided that would be kind of cruel, considering this story was supposed to be silly and smutty. So you can thank my friend for how this played out (and how it continues next chapter).


	7. In the Brig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Garak and Miles finally have a talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did this get so looooooong?  
> Sorry about the late update. Between a 3-day migraine and… *checks notes* a country with a reality TV star for president turning into a reality TV show (big surprise there), I just didn’t have the fortitude to go back over this.

Miles rotated on his bench to face Garak. “We’re supposed t’be talking, you know. The captain isn’t gonna let us out unless he thinks we’ve cleared things up.”

He was right. But that didn’t mean Garak actually wanted to do it. “Talk away, Mr. O’Brien.”

“You hurt Julian.”

The forthright accusation took him by surprise, and his eyes raised to meet Miles before he could stop them. “That was not my intention.”

“Well, you did. I know how much he cares ‘bout ya, and that night-”

Garak cut him off. “Chief, let’s not forget that the walls have ears.”

Miles' cheeks grew ruddy. “Oh. Right. Well, d’you have any idea how much he’s been moping around these past few weeks? I don’t know what you said, but he’s been in a proper sulk, not even fit fer darts and drinks. He wasn’t even this upset after breakin’ up with Leeta.”

“Doctor Bashir is free to feel whatever he may, and express that as he pleases. But neither he nor you have any say in _my_ emotions or choices. And I’ll not be held responsible for his happiness.” Garak consciously kept his hands still, although they itched to curl into fists again.

“I’m not tellin’ ya how to feel,” Miles said testily. “I’m jus’ saying you could have been more gentle with him.”

That would have gotten Garak absolutely nowhere. _Gentle_ would have simply led Julian on. Being abrupt and distant, perhaps even a little harsh, was imperative. Mandatory. For both of them. “I’m sure he’ll rebound in no time. The doctor is remarkably resilient, and he goes from one lover to the next quite easily, from what I’ve seen. Give it time.”

“So you two _were_ lovers, then?”

“ _Chief_!” Garak hissed, his head whipping around to figure out where the listening devices might be situated.

Miles stood up and paced across his side of the cell. “Oh, come off it, Garak. Half the station already thought you two were sleepin’ together before all this. What with the way you make eyes at him and how he hangs on yer every word. Pfft. Surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Garak had been aware of that, up to a point. He knew that a few people (especially the Bajorans and anyone familiar with Cardassian custom) may have been under that impression. But half of the station? “If that was the case, then why did your wife find it necessary to lure us to Bajor with you?”

“Cuz _we_ knew nothin’ had happened. Julian woulda said something. But Keiko, well…” He ran his hand through his curls. “She wanted him to be happy, and thought this’d do it. And she really seemed t’think that you felt the same way he did.” He flopped back down, this time along the back wall, and leaned against it tiredly. “I _told_ her it wasn’t a good idea. So don’t go blaming me for what happened.”

Garak hadn’t appreciated Keiko’s part in the events of the trip, but he still held her in a high enough esteem to be rankled by the comment. “Your wife isn’t the one that struck me.”

“Oh, for Chrissakes! You said that- that me an’ him… that we’d…” he trailed off and rubbed a hand down his face. “What did he tell you about that?”

“More than I’d care to know.”

“We were drunk, Garak. We were havin’ a little fun in the holosuite--”

Garak leapt up. “I already said that was more than I wanted to know.”

“Shuddup and let me talk. I don’t know what he told you happened, but it wasn’t that much. You know how Julian is. He kept talkin’ about how he loves everyone a little bit, and he wishes more people loved him back. And when he said he loved me…” he shrugged. “It felt good. Bein’ loved. So things happened. I don’t regret it.” He met Garak’s gaze, looked back down. “But afterwards, he… he got all weepy. You ever seen Julian sad-drunk? He’s a right mess. Started talkin’ about _you._ How he wished _you_ loved him. I tried t’convince him he didn’t need that, that bein’ friends was good enough. But you know how he fixates on things. I sent him home still going on about how no one gets him like you do and how he looks forward to your next lunch as soon as the last one’s over. Then I went home myself an’ told Keiko the whole thing over subspace.”

Garak’s imagination flashed through scenes from the monologue. Julian, naked and kneeling submissively before Miles. Julian, gesticulating passionately while getting dressed, probably missing an armhole or buttoning his shirt unevenly in his fervor. Julian, tears sparkling in his eyelashes, standing forlornly in his living room after being left alone. 

He returned to his spot and sank back down.

Miles closed his eyes. “That was almos’ two years ago. You’re not some passing fad, Garak.”

He’d worried about that. It almost made it worse. He’d thought, in the beginning, that that’s exactly what Julian would be. A quick dalliance, a month or so of mutual sexual gratification in which he’d exchange his mystery and experience for the Human’s youthful exuberance… and his information in regards to Starfleet. Obviously, it had developed far beyond that. He’d never expected Julian to be so passionate, nor so knowledgeable in the areas of philosophy and literature. Or politics. Religion. Even musical history and theory. 

Garak had always had a weakness for a good, sound debate. Not the superficial bickering that his people were inclined to when flirting or courting. Something deep and meaningful, that examined an issue from all sides. He had, unfortunately and perhaps foolishly, mixed the two approaches until the lines became blurred. And Julian had gone right along with it, meeting parry for parry, thrust for thrust, and hardly ever backing down. 

Garak’s gut clenched. He missed Julian. His dulcet voice, his fervid eyes, his elbows on the table as he leaned forward and nearly tipped his soup in excitement. The way he tried to find the good in every bad situation, the redeeming traits in even the most villainous of characters. How he didn’t just expound the virtues of the Federation but truly lived up to them. How his sense of duty and obligation to his people and ideals were equal to or might even surpass Garak’s own.

“Garak?”

“I’m afraid I might love him, Mr. O’Brien.” It hurt to admit it aloud, but as soon as the words left him, he suddenly felt freer, like tight bands around his chest had been released.

The Human didn’t even open his eyes. “‘Course you do. He’s Julian.” 

“Cardassians don’t value love.”

Miles smiled to himself. “I know, I know. Duty to the State and all that. But you’re not like other Cardassians. And he’s not like other Humans.”

No, Garak _wasn’t_ like other Cardassians. He often took pride in the fact that he was a good deal more subtle and cultured than many of his people (namely, Skrain Dukat), but it also bothered him at times, too. It was partially responsible for his exile, and his differences only grew more magnified over the years as he spent more and more time away from home. Time amongst Humans and Bajorans mostly, but also Trills, Klingons, Ferengi, Bolians… 

Even if he returned some day, would he even be accepted anymore? 

Miles opened his eyes and put his elbows on his knees. “If you don’t mind me askin’... when do you think it happened?” His eyes dropped to the floor. “Y’know, when you fell in love with’im.”

Garak knew the approximate time frame, if not the precise moment. Was it when Julian fondly took his hand and forgave him for unknown evils? Was it after the doctor risked his life visiting Enabran Tain, or later, when he stayed by Garak’s bedside throughout the recovery? He remembered opening his eyes, realizing first that he wasn’t dead, and his vision clearing to reveal the most benevolent and angelic face he’d ever seen peering down at him. The pain had kicked in almost immediately afterward, and monitors had begun going off, but Julian didn’t leave his side. He just cradled Garak’s head in his marvelously warm hands while someone else administered a hypospray, and everything else just seemed to… fade away. He passed out again, but this time with a glimmer of hope that maybe things could get better. _Would_ get better.

As long as he had Julian nearby.

Miles squinted at him. “I bet I know what yer thinkin’ about. It’s when he helped you get ridda that… that thing in yer head. He spent 13 hours in surgery for that. Barely took a break. He wouldn’t rest ‘til he was sure you’d be okay. Huh.” He looked down at his hands. “I know he’d do that for anyone; he’s a good doctor like that. But it did seem personal to him. Dax said she brought him food several times because he wasn’t eating, jus’... sittin’ there, staring at you while you were unconscious. I guess he felt somethin’ back then too, huh?”

Could he have? Was it possible that Julian had loved him just as long?

Unsure how to respond, Garak turned away from the pensive man and found Morn still watching unabashedly from his own cell. He didn’t even blink. How well could Lurians hear? Would their conversation be fresh gossip all over the station by this time tomorrow? 

Before he could formulate an answer or deflection, Odo marched in and glared at all of his detainees. “There’s been an incident. Two shuttles of feuding Br’xons just docked, and a phaser battle took place. Half of Quark’s inventory has been obliterated, and 7 individuals were sent to the infirmary for burns. I’m going to need all three of these cells, so you’re free to go. For now.” He freed the first two. “Zock, Morn, I’ll be calling you back later to finish paperwork.” 

Once they were gone, he released Miles and Garak. Gazing at the ceiling, he clasped his hands behind his back. “As I was preparing your cell for its new inhabitants, I accidentally deleted all logs of your conversation. You’re going to have to convince Captain Sisko on your own that… some sort of peaceable agreement has been reached between you.”

O’Brien glanced at Garak, then back at the constable, slapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Odo. You’re a good man.”

The changeling shrugged him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t overdo Miles. I spent a few years working in a Scottish/Irish/Welsh novelty shop, so it’s possible my brain exaggerated his accent.  
> Only one chapter left!


	8. Not Long After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with Kaga the Klingon chef

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this MUCH sooner, but it felt choppy and a little too silly. So after weeks of futile work, I scrapped half the chapter and rewrote it, and it became two chapters (but the removed portion might become its own oneshot). So here's a little something to tide you over before the end!

Garak sat in his seldom-used but customary seat at the Klingon restaurant while waiting for the _zilm’kach_ and _baghol_. The items he’d ordered were a coded signal to the chef, but also two of the few things he could stomach of the exotic but (in his opinion) often repulsive cuisine on the menu. 

The tea-like _baghol_ was heated to Cardassian levels of tolerance, for which he was grateful. The safety settings on Deep Space Nine’s replicators always left his beverages feeling and tasting tepid, but Kaga warmed _his_ refreshments over a fire. 

The bowl of fruit accompanying his drink was plump and soft, and Garak chose to eat it with a fork to prevent getting his hands sticky, but it left his belly feeling warm and sated.

The evening rush died down, seeing as the restaurant would be closing in half an hour. The proprietor ceased taking orders to begin serenading various couples with his concertina, and he bellowed melodically from table to table. Garak watched with as much interest as he could muster, admiring the nimble fingers and resonant voice of the musically-inclined chef. Kaga had all of the intensity of his people with almost none of the violence. Unless pushed, of course, but that applied to just about anybody. All in all, it made for a… tolerable combination.

When the eatery had first opened on the promenade, Garak had been moderately revolted (as he was with most Klingons, Martok included), but intrigued almost immediately afterward. Kaga wasn’t a top tier conversationalist, but what he did have to say was still interesting and passionate, and he was much more well-rounded than his brethren. The two businessmen struck up an easy acquaintance, and after several months of cross-cultural negotiation, a casual and sporadic partnership that Humans would refer to as “friends with benefits.” 

It was the benefits that Garak had arrived for, not the cuisine.

He had to get Julian off his mind and out of his system. Yes, he’d finally admitted to himself (and Chief O’Brien, of all people) just how deeply he cared for the Human. But it was _because_ he cared for Julian that he had to let him go. And forget that they were ever anything more than friends.

What better way to wipe his memory than some hard, fast, and exhaustive fucking with someone so different from the one he desired? Whether he had one dick in his mouth and the other in his hand or ended up impaling that magnificently ridged ass, there would be no mistaking his partner for anything close to Human. No comforting lies or daydreams here.

Kaga stopped by his table and angled the concertina to his hip. “Mr. Garak. What sort of dessert are you here for this evening?” he asked in a singsong voice, rather than the grating rumble he used while taking orders.

“Oh, I’m open to suggestions,” Garak replied amicably. “Whatever you think may suit my tastes.”

The Klingon rumbled under his breath, and fingers waggled at his side. He bowed just a little, allowing Garak to catch a whiff of his musk. “You won’t be disappointed.” 

Time passed, and slowly the other patrons drifted away. Kaga emptied the buffet and cleared tables at a leisurely pace, tossing plates like flying disks into the room behind the front counter. Thank the guls the two of them would be utilizing the back room for their tryst instead. 

Work completed, the Klingon meandered his way to Garak, and took a seat across the way. “You look unhappy, Tailor. Like your favorite pet targ died.”

Garak sat up straighter, resolute in his decision. “It’s nothing. Just a change in plans. But not _tonight’s_ plans.”

“Ah.” Kaga drew a dagger from his sleeve to pick something out of his teeth. “I hope you have some energy, then. I need help moving this table into storage. I’m going to be erecting a statue of Kahless in its place. Then we can see about _dessert_.” He shoved the knife into a pocket, and they both stood up to grab their sides of the tabletop. 

“Here, let me help. That looks awfully heavy.” Julian rushed over and held his hands out. Garak and Kaga stared at him, momentarily at a loss. “What?”

“Thank you for the offer, Dr. Bashir. But Mr. Garak and I can take care of this. And we have some _business_ to discuss after.”

The tone of his voice was a little more suggestive than Garak would have liked, but he refrained from interjecting and looked down.

Julian’s eyes jumped back and forth between them, and he started to blush. “Well, I- I ah… I have some business to discuss with him, too.”

Kaga was amused. “You can talk to him tomorrow. He is otherwise engaged.” That was actually remarkably tactful for a Klingon. 

Either Julian didn’t read between the lines or chose to ignore them altogether. “I’m sorry, but this can’t wait. It’s of the utmost importance.”

Garak felt like he ought to step in, but it was somewhat fascinating to see the two men go up against each other like this. Over _him_. He tucked his hands behind his back to keep them from swiping fussily over his tunic in case of crumbs or wrinkles.

Kaga shifted his posture into a more aggressive stance. “He is _mine_ tonight.” 

When realization hit, Julian shot an astonished look at Garak, then back to the chef, and wiped his palms on his trousers. He gulped but stood his ground. “Th-this is a matter of honor. Since you’re a Klingon, you understand. You might want his body, but... I-I’m after his heart.”

Kaga appraised him, then threw back his head and laughed. “Ahahahaha! A noble cause indeed! You wish to be his _par’Mach’kai?_ Are you prepared to fight for him?” 

“As I understand it, there’s no need to fight. Not unless you want to be considered, also.” Julian stood as straight and tall as he could. “But if you do, then… yes. I’ll fight you.”

The Klingon growled lowly and regained his casual position. “No. I do not. I prefer to remain solitary. But it still falls to Mr. Garak to decide who he leaves with.”

Garak’s heart thumped in his chest as they faced him. The situation felt remarkably like a schoolyard contest, which should have made him indignant or even embarrassed. But instead… he just felt humbled. But also young. And desirable. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with. And one he suddenly wanted to explore further. Almost giddy now, his answer came much more readily than he expected. “Mr. Kaga, thank you for a delicious meal. I’ll remain a loyal customer to your establishment.” He moved closer to Julian, and the radiant heat from the Human’s anxiety could be sensed even through his clothes. “But I simply must attend to a few unfinished matters.”

Kaga effortlessly flipped the table on its side and lifted it by the central support with one hand, a sly grin on his face. “I understand, Tailor. Until next time.” He nodded to them both and carted the fixture off like it weighed next to nothing. Ebullient humming followed in his wake.

Julian deflated. “Garak, you’re an utter arse, you know that?”

“Why thank you, my dear. I knew there was a reason I chose you over the Klingon.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Look, just because the Obsidian Order taught you that the best way to solve a problem is through sabotage, it doesn’t mean you need to apply that to personal relationships.” He poked Garak in the chest. “Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing. But I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Garak was hit with the revelation that he would have been terribly disappointed if that were the case. He _wanted_ Julian to chase after him, to fight for him. The finger denting his tunic fell away, and mourned the loss of touch, just barely resisting the urge to reach out for it. 

Julian huffed. His lips tugged down as he peeked toward the back door of the restaurant. “Were you and him ever a… a thing?”

Garak felt a warm glow at the jealousy evident on his voice. “Do you mean were we ever in a monogamous relationship? No, we were not.”

The doctor’s expression softened. “Have you ever been in a relationship, period?”

Garak waved him towards the stairs. “I do owe you a discussion, but let’s find somewhere a little more discreet to have it.” They descended one at a time and headed for the promenade. “Have I ever seriously courted anyone or been courted? The answer is no. I did come close… once. But it was not meant to be.”

“Why? What happened?” 

Garak hadn’t talked to anyone about Palandine since his arrival on the station, and for once he actually felt comfortable doing so. “She was married.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Julian tilted his head. “Did you love her?”

“I believed I did. I may have. It was many years ago.” 

The backs of their hands brushed each other as they walked, but neither made a move beyond that. “Did she love you back?”

“We never used those words. It was best not to.”

Julian stopped and grabbed his arm. “Elim, has _anyone_ ever said they loved you?”

Garak moved to the side to let walkers pass them by. “My father did.” As soon as the Human opened his mouth, he held up a hand. “Not Tain. The man who raised me.”

“Oh. But what about… romantic love?”

“Must we do this here? I’d rather not.” Garak led them in the direction of his shop. As soon as they were through the doors, he locked them and turned the lights on low. Hopefully dim enough to avoid notice. “Only you, Julian. Only you.”

The doctor sighed gustily. “Well, no wonder it scared you off. You’re- well, I don’t know how old, and then after a couple hours of shagging I just throw that at you out of left field…”

Garak touched his shoulder. “It wasn’t ‘out of left field,’ doctor. I knew how you felt. I just chose not to acknowledge it.”

Julian’s forehead wrinkled in surprise. “You knew?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at hiding your feelings?”

He hunched his shoulders. “Once or twice. But why didn’t you say anything?”

“There are a dozen reasons, Doctor. Because I thought you’d get over it. Because I thought I would have returned to Cardassia by now. Because I didn’t want Dukat to come after you.” Garak turned away and walked toward some chairs in the back. “Because I’m a sentimental fool.”

Julian hurried after him. “What? Really? Do you wish you _had_ said something?”

Pulse thudding in his chest and throat, Garak swallowed. “I should have told you to find someone else to pine after.” Yet even as he tried one last time to push the man away, his traitorous heart begged him not to.

Julian twisted him around, hands on his shoulders. “I don’t _want_ someone else.” He raised a hand to Garak’s cheek, then dropped it. “But… only if you want me, too.” His hazel eyes were so yearning and earnest. “ _Do_ you want me, too?”

Garak groaned, his defenses crumbling. “More than anything, my dear.” Which was only a small lie. Of all the things he _could_ have, Julian was at the top of the list. The only thing he wanted more was out of his reach.

The Human melted into him, wrapping his arms around Garak and kissing fervently over his cheeks and lips. Garak responded with equal enthusiasm, hauling their bodies closer until they were chest to chest. Julian tasted of jumja sticks and Tarkalean tea, and never had he surrendered to anything or anyone so sweet.

“We still need to finish that talk,” Julian mumbled against Garak’s mouth, hands framing his jaw. “But maybe, perhaps, right now…” They came together again, the words trailing away, forgotten. 

How could they fit together so well, read each other so perfectly? A jaded Cardassian operative and an idealistic Human Starfleet officer, yet drawn irresistibly into this fascinating dance, knowing each other, leaning on each other, finishing one another’s sentences? What sort of powers in the universe would conspire to not only bring them together on this space station, but to become so deeply and inextricably bonded?

Garak angled back just slightly so that their lips parted, but bowed forward so that his forehead rested against Julian’s. He couldn’t say the words yet. Not now, not here. But there was one place on the station that he trusted to give them complete privacy, and that would allow his dear friend to see just how much he meant to Garak, how much he was trusted. And it was only mere meters away. He silently took the doctor’s hand and led him to the very back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely, positively promise that next chapter is the last one. Pinky swear.


	9. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which Garak lets Julian in

Julian waited patiently next to Garak as he entered the code to his storeroom, along with the command to disable a specific portion of the security grid. The door whooshed open and the lights came up, revealing the tailor’s primary inner sanctum. 

Hanging bolts of cloth adorned two walls, while folded textiles and various tools crowded the shelves of the third. The wall they passed through included a console and workstation on one side of the doorway, and a table for cutting and measuring fabric on the other. It was a place of labor and order, but of passion and beauty, too. A space for both dedicated work and profound contemplation. Some days Garak spent more time there than in his own quarters.

Julian’s eyes swept back and forth across the room, and he let go of Garak’s hand to stroke a Ferengi brocade composed of thick gold fibers with deep purple embroidery. “I’ve never been back here,” he commented softly, in awe. He ambled away to brush his hand over steel blue satin, then promptly got distracted analyzing various gadgets on a nearby platform.

While he was busy, Garak typed in a complex string of characters to his computer, then leaned forward to peer into the magnifier used for fine stitching. It flashed red and scanned his cornea. There was no beep or click to signify acceptance, simply a lack of highly unpleasant defensive measures being activated from multiple points around the room.

When he turned, Julian was observing him with what looked to be mild awe. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret _lair_ ,” he drawled.

Garak smiled back. “What is it you humans like to say? Actions speak louder than words? Excuse me.” He approached a section of floor-to-ceiling shelves that were barely wider than his shoulders, and gave a push. The entire set rotated, revealing a space beyond.

Julian appeared at his shoulder. “Oh my god, you _do_ have a secret lair.” 

“Really, my dear, you make me sound like one of your Bond villains. I prefer ‘vault’ or ‘bunker.’”

“Hmm,” the Human replied absently. “Perhaps ‘shelter?’” Garak didn’t reply. He stepped in and moved aside to allow his guest entry. But Julian held a finger up. “Would I be correct in assuming communications signals cannot reach in there?”

Ah. “Yes, that would be a logical assumption.”

Julian tapped his comm badge. “Bashir to Jadzia.”

<Jadzia here.> The voice was thick and garbled, like she was in the middle of eating dinner. <What’s up?>

“Um… I’m going to be out of reach for the next…” Julian peeked at Garak, “hour or so. Um, off the grid, so to speak. So if anyone calls, can you cover for me?”

A pause, presumably while she swallowed. <Hmm. Is everything okay?>

“Yes. Great, actually. Just, can you do this for me this one time?”

<Yeah, sure. But you owe me one. And if there’s an emergency, remember that we can still track where your badge last transmitted from. So don’t be surprised when Captain Sisko comes knocking if the station is under attack.>

Julian laughed. “Thanks for the reminder. Bashir out.” He pursed his lips and glanced down at the silver insignia. “Should I leave it out here or bring it in with me?”

“Bring it in. If the signal can’t be located due to the blockage, you may be able to blame it on a technology error.”

Julian rolled his eyes, but gave Garak a peck on the cheek before strolling into the chamber beyond. The motion sensors picked him up and flicked the lights on. When he stopped up short to gape at the wide assortment of decorations and accoutrements, Garak gently nudged his stunned body aside and replaced the wall.

Julian took in the long but narrow space that used to be the very back of Garak’s shop. What had once been extra floor space was now well and truly the Cardassian’s one haven on the station. All of his most important equipment was here, from weapons to communications devices to tools for altering or breaking into computer systems. It also contained what few possessions he’d managed to be allowed when he was exiled. A couple statues and artworks, a photo frame of Mila, a crystallized fossil he’d found in his youth.

One of his more recent acquisitions sat on the safe next to his sleeping pallet: 7 small bottles of sand, each a different color. Drawn to those, Julian kneeled down and studied them. 

“Cardassia has seven major deserts,” Garak clarified, “each with its own distinctive minerals and hues.” There was the common beige sand found on planets throughout the quadrant, but also coppery orange, ochre red, brown, a coarse gray, golden yellow, and a fine, volcanic black. Garak had paid a fair amount of latinum for the set, but they were verified genuine articles, so he considered the purchase a worthy one.

Julian stood up with a tender look in his eyes. “Which one is your favorite?”

Garak’s breath caught. There was no contest as to the answer. “The gray one is from just outside Lakarian city. I visited ruins there, once, as a child.” He didn’t provide any more details than that, but his mind still played out clips: broken Hebitian temples and residences dotting the landscape, Tolan sharing tidbits about the Oralian way. That particular specimen had been the easiest to judge its authenticity, as there were actually microscopic chips of paint from the ruins among the grains of sand. He itched to pick up the bottle and cradle it in his hands.

“A little bit of home,” Julian murmured. He dipped his face chidingly. “How appallingly sentimental of you.”

Should his heart feel like it was about to thud out of his chest? “I blame you, my dear. You bring out that side of me.”

Julian stepped closer so he could run a hand over Garak’s hair. “I’d like to believe that’s a good thing.” His eyes flicked to an abstract painting of a regnar sunning on a large rock. “Especially if it brings you comfort.” He put his other hand on Garak’s shoulder. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Elim.” By some unspoken agreement, they wrapped their arms around each other in a tight hug. “I never wanted to push you away,” Julian whispered. “I’m sorry that I came on too strong and made you uncomfortable. I… I’ll try not to do that again.”

Garak pulled back just slightly, huffing fondly. “Doctor. Julian. Being ‘comfortable’ is not the same thing as happy. Before you came along, I was… surviving. Sometimes I could even be content. But in your company I became something more. I found meaning and purpose to life again. And yes, it was _damned_ uncomfortable. But, my dear, you taught me to smile again, and to laugh. So I think I’m going to have to learn to live with that discomfort, because I don’t want to live without you.” He watched the Human’s eye grow watery. “I’ve missed you these past few weeks, Julian.” He would not cry, he would not cry, he-

Their lips met once more as they clung together, and this time the taste was more salty than sweet, but all the more real because of it. Gentle presses of the mouth, soft strokes of hands over faces and arms. Shaky breaths and sniffles, wet cheeks and soft laughs as fingers collided while wiping away tears.

They sank to the low bed together and stretched out over the plain and serviceable blankets, facing each other on their sides with Julian’s back to the bulkhead. They lay like that for several minutes, just watching each other quietly and holding hands until the lights went out due to the lack of motion. Julian startled, but Garak squeezed him reassuringly. “System: lamps on,” he requested. “This room isn’t connected to the main computer,” he explained, as tubes across the ceiling began to glow red and heat enveloped them.

“Of course it isn’t,” Julian agreed with a soft snicker. “That could leave you vulnerable to discovery or even sabotage.” 

Garak shook his head morosely. “It may be too late for that. I believe I’ve been compromised.”

“Wha- Oh.” Julian smiled and tapped him on the nose. “That’s the second time you’ve said something that could almost be considered romantic. I’ll have those secrets out of you yet. But don’t worry.” He propped himself up and gave Garak a kiss on the chufa. “I won’t tell them anything. I’ve been compromised, too.” Peering down, his face was mostly in shadow, but there was still a faint light in his eyes. “You and me. What a pair we make.” He huffed out in amusement. “Who could have predicted this, all those years ago? Or even months ago. Who would’ve thought, you and me riding a _bokka_ on Bajor _…”_

Garak felt his mouth turn up. “I may have been seated on the _bokka_ , but if I remember correctly, it was _you_ I was riding.”

It was comical watching the doctor’s eyes widen so much that his eyebrows shot up. Like the first time they’d met. “Oh, you devil, you-” He kissed Garak on the lips. “Fiend. You-” Another kiss, longer. “Lovely... lovely... mmmmmm.”

This kiss had distinctly more warmth to it, deeper and with more tongue. Hands tangled in hair and legs intertwined until they were wrapped so tight together as to practically make one being. It was so warm and so close and so _right._

Or nearly so. 

It was almost too warm and too close, but that was a situation easily remedied. Barely breaking apart except for once or twice, they took turns slowly undressing themselves and each other. Buttons, clasps, and snaps were undone, chests and waists bared, arms and legs freed until there was a pile of mingled garments on the floor next to the pallet.

Garak groaned as Julian nibbled his way along a jaw ridge and then down his neck. Still on their sides, their groins were pressed together, and the human’s erection rubbed over all the right places on Garak’s lower belly. He thrust forward, grinding his scales into the hot and pliant skin while digging his nails into the naked back. When Julian located a particularly sensitive spot and sucked the ridge into his mouth to trace it with his tongue, Garak bucked at the delicious twinge and as his muscles released enough to evert a little.

At the emergence of the prUt along his cock, Julian groaned as well. He sucked harder and scraped his nails down the flesh next to Garak’s spinal ridge. Centimeter by centimeter, the Cardassian phallus slid forward and up, covered in a liberal coating of slick. Garak circled his hips, rubbing the essence all over Julian’s organ. Unable to help himself, he reached down between them to take both erections in his hand and pump them with a firm grip and measured pace.

Julian’s mouth released his ridge to let out a strangled exhalation, his entire body seizing up and trembling. “Elim, oh Elim…” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. “God, that’s so good.”

They both lightly thrust into Garak’s palm, which continued its up and down pressure, squeezing and gliding at a faster pace. Their breaths sped up with the increased stimulation. Garak’s ajan tightened in pleasure as streaks up fire pulsed inward from his prUt. He didn’t want to stop, but he simultaneously wanted to progress further. He let go of himself to focus solely on Julian. The spongy head had seemed especially sensitive, so he traced around the crown and explored the tip. His partner whined in the back of his throat, back arching. 

Garak angled the penis sideways and then lower until it was pointed below his own, and aligned it to the entrance, just barely stopping from impaling himself. He waited, watching Julian’s eyes flicker open and register comprehension. When he was accorded a brief nod, he guided the cock forward into his seam. 

The gentle invasion pried him open and then paused, just far enough to tease, but it seemed almost too much for his lover. Julian shook and whimpered as they rocked shallowly, just the head slipping in and out for an agonizing minute or so.

Desiring a better view to watch his lover come apart, Garak withdrew.

“Elim, what-”

But Julian was already being nudged onto his back, and Garak moved over him on his hands and knees. Making sure Julian’s eyes were locked on his, he guided the organ back into his ajan and sank down on it. Deeper, further, there and… there. 

Julian had been inside Garak’s head for years. Once, quite literally. Julian had worked his way into Garak’s routines, his afternoons, his lunches. And here he was now, inside Garak’s private hideaway and inside his body. There was really only one place left to acknowledge.

“Elim, come here, love.” Julian pulled him down until he was covering the Human’s belly and hovering over his chest. “Do you want this?”

“Yes Julian,” Garak crooned. He kissed a trail over the sweat-slickened collarbones and neck, pausing to suck at a pulse point. The Human quivered under him, then stilled as he moved northwards and their mouths found each other. Julian took his prUt in hand and made a gentle slide up and down the length. It was unutterably divine, and Garak thrust into it, allowing the cock inside him to slide out and back into him again. “Oh Julian,” he praised through the internal surges, “you divine, extraordinary, lovely man…”

“Take me, Elim. All of me. Tonight, tomorrow, forever.” Which novel had that come from? Did it matter?

Garak rocked forward and back, delighting in the internal and external stimulation, losing all coherent thought, and the words only registered on a subliminal level. But they triggered something, and his own response tumbled out of its own volition as he was penetrated over and over again. “I want it all, my dear doctor. Your body, your mind, your soul. You fill me up, Julian…” His hips froze in place for a second, squeezing the organ sheathed between his legs, and he let waves of heat roll through him before starting the rhythm back up. “You possess me…” And indeed he felt possessed, like there was something rippling under his skin and pressing to escape. “You complete me-”

A hiss passed through his lips, a guttural, instinctual claiming sound that he’d never uttered before. He was losing control, and it had never felt so glorious in his life. 

“The words,” Julian gasped. “I know you want to say them. I can feel it. Tell me.” He seized Garak’s hips and thrust upward.

Garak grabbed hold of Julian’s shoulders as he clenched in place, and the human took over completely, plunging in and out while stroking his prUt vigorously. Garak licked his lips and swallowed, ready to make his declaration, when fire coursed through his nerves and his body seized up, the orgasm ripping through him from groin to toe tips and back up again. He cried out in surprise as his essence spurted from his core and across his lover’s body. Julian clasped his waist and tugged him down roughly, burying himself as deep as possible before coming too, and Garak felt something molten and wet coat his insides. A heavy sigh escaped, and he slumped over his companion. “My heart,” he finally managed. “You’re inside my heart,” he panted, and punctuated it with a soft kiss to the neck.

“You’re inside my heart as well,” Julian replied huskily, relaxing into the mussed blankets.

Not wanting his heavy frame to become uncomfortable, Garak disengaged and slid to the side so that he was only partially covering his companion. He curled an arm and a leg over the fever-warm body, his nose tucked into a cheek. The chrono on the wall said they still had a little time left. Relaxing between the heat lamp overhead and the mammalian form beneath him, his muscles untensed and his prUt returned.

For a solid ten minutes or so, the pair curled up together, just breathing softly and caressing with fingertips here or there. Tracing scales, combing hair. A kiss on the shoulder, a return kiss on the nose.

“You know…” Julian murmured playfully. “As a _doctor_ , riding is a very healthy form of exercise. I recommend you do it more often.”

Garak half-heartedly kicked his ankle. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Oh no. I’m blaming you for this. Your company has corrupted me.”

Disguising a laugh as clearing his throat, the Cardassian raised his brows innocently. “Me? Corrupt you? Whatever could you mean?”

“Stop by my shop for some _enjoyable company_ , Doctor. I’m at your _disposal,”_ Julian mimicked. “You’ve been making euphemisms since day one.” He glanced sideways. “I just about died when you told me to break into your quarters to find that rod and _eat_ it.”

Garak remembered. He’d been particularly proud of that line. And had adored the reaction. “I suppose you’ve conveniently forgotten the time you offered me some of your Yigrish cream pie?”

Julian sputtered. “That actually was completely accidental. Although it did give me some interesting dreams after I realized what I’d said.”

Garak hummed. “Dreams? Or fantasies?”

“I’m not telling.”

Garak got up on one elbow to fake a stern face. “I have ways of making you talk, _Mister_ Bashir.”

“Oh god no. We’re not going there.” Julian made an embarrassed face. “That was mortifying.”

Enjoying himself, Garak ran a hand down a bare arm and watched the hairs stand on end. He wrapped his hand around the tiny wrist like a cuff. “But you’ve already gone there. You’ve entered my… what did you call it? Ah yes, _lair._ And now you’re in bed with the spy. So tell me now: dreams or fantasies? Don’t make me resort to drastic measures.”

Julian’s pupils expanded as he fought to avoid eye contact, but he kept sneaking glances back. He’d make a terrible secret agent but an enchanting plaything. They might have to explore this avenue again. “I… I’m not… telling?”

Unfortunately, they didn’t have endless time to continue the little reenactment in their current location. So Garak deliberately lightened the mood. He let go of Julian’s wrist and started tickling his exposed side.

The Human shrieked and jumped in the bed, twitching and batting him away. “Not fair!” he complained, laughing almost uncontrollably. Garak continued without mercy. “Fine, fine, it was fantasies. Happy?” The tickles stopped. “After the whole debacle with that Lethean, I de-stressed by wanking off to the thought of you giving me a, ah, creampie.”

“Did you now? You’re much naughtier than I suspected, my dear.”

Julian shimmied closer. “Look who’s talking. I can be even more so, if you like.” How could that face transform from angelic to wicked so _thoroughly_? “If we get dressed, we can go back to one of our quarters. Or…” He licked his lips. “Elsewhere.”

Garak was lost. A young and energetic companion with an open mind, keen intellect, and an adventurous libido? How could he have ever considered giving that up? “Well. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. I suppose I could be persuaded to… relocate.” 

The pair sat up and started separating the tangle of clothing on the floor.

Garak shook his head in discontent at the disarray. This wouldn’t do. “Those clothes are terribly wrinkled. It’s going to take some time in the steamer to straighten them out. I have something extra for myself tucked away in these drawers,” he gestured to a small piece of furniture just past the pallet, “but for you… I believe I’ll locate something among my racks with a little more style than your usual attire.”

Julian smiled self-deprecatingly while he leaned back on his hands. “I’m not even going to argue. I know what you think of my outfits.”

Garak patted his cheek before taking a hand in his. Warm affection suffused the tailor, and he strove to let it shine from his eyes. “You misunderstand, my dear. It’s not because I disapprove of your fashion sense. It’s so that everyone who sees us knows that you’re _mine_.”

Adoring eyes met his. “I am, Elim. For as long as you’ll have me.” 

Garak sighed in satisfaction and silently thanked Keiko for her intervention. He thanked Captain Sisko for forcing him to talk with Miles, and Miles for helping him face his feelings. He especially felt grateful towards Bajor and all of the incidences that had occurred there that brought the two of them together. They’d have to visit the Toponoah Highlands for real some day, just him and Julian. With more medical supplies. And a larger tent.

Garak’s breath caught as he realized he’d just started planning for the future. His previously gray and black existence had color slowly leaching into the picture, painting a scene that perhaps over time he could learn to cherish. Passionate reds and oranges offset by soft gray-greens and tiny white speckles like stars. And two figures wound around each other as if nothing else mattered in the galaxy except for them.

He raised the bronze hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back, like a promise. “As I am yours, my dear. I love you… Julian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a trip! And it’s finally over. I can’t believe that what started out as a silly one-shot of Garak getting off while horseback riding became THIS. I actually cried a little while writing the last chapter.  
> What did you think?


End file.
